Fallout: Gone to California
by idexile
Summary: A young man who had lived in the safety of an underground shelter all his life leaves to face the horrors of the post-apocalyptic California in order to save his people. The story of Fallout 1.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

In the long history of humanity there was never a war as immense and destructive as the Great War of 2077. The entire world was involved in massive Resource Wars, which ended when one of the countries launched a nuclear missile, triggering the Great War. Every country that had any nuclear bombs launched them all at their foes. In two brief hours the entire Earth's arsenal of nuclear arms was detonated and most of the planet's face was turned into cinders. Cities were destroyed, landscapes were shattered, and under the hellish rain of nuclear bombs, the Earth itself started to move, causing great earthquakes that thrust new mountain ranges into existence and destroyed old ones. In two brief hours of bombardment, the face of the planet changed drastically. But that was still not the worst part. A week later, a black rain started falling from the sky. It was a poisonous rain, contaminated with ash and radioactive elements. And during this fallout of inconceivable magnitude, most living things in Earth died. Most of what was left was a deranged, mutated mockery of the world before the Great War.

However, not all things died. Aside from those who survived by mutating, there were those who were saved. The people of the world had predicted something like this would happen and have taken precautions. In the USA, a network of massive underground nuclear fallout shelters were constructed, and these shelters, called 'vaults', were able to provide food, water, shelter and electricity for over a thousand people each for at least a few decades, maybe even centuries. There were other minor bunkers and sanctuaries where not only humans survived the disaster. Once the initial chaos was over and the radiation levels fell low enough, some survivors opened up their shelters and took a glimpse at what has become of the world. And the world had changed beyond recognition and beyond the point of return: the human civilization has fallen, their cities destroyed by the nuclear fire. Dangerous mutants stalked all moving things, and crazed human survivors roamed the remains of their planet killing, looting, and enslaving. The Earth itself became a massive wasteland: an endless expanse of sand and rock, with small, ragged pockets of life scattered here and there. People in the vaults knew this would be the inevitable result of the Great War, and often time they would not call it 'war', but 'holocaust' instead, for the conflict of 2077 had no winner, only victims.

The people of Vault 13 have lived with no knowledge of the outside world for over eighty years since the bombs. There were none left who remembered the world before the holocaust and not many who wanted to venture outside into the inhospitable place they knew the world would turn into after such a disaster. After all, it was their vault, the one they were born in and the one they will die in, their little slice of heaven in the hell man made of Earth.

84 years after that tragic day the people of Vault 13, content to stay underground forever, were despite their wishes forced to look up into the hell above and pray that the endless expanse of California Wasteland would hold the key to their salvation.


	2. An Encounter in the Wasteland

A/N: I don't own Fallout. Damn.

A CHANCE MEETING

Vault 13

2161-12-01 5:04 PM

Matthew yawned and stretched as the elevator started its slow descent into the depths of the vault. Another pointless day in the vault's infirmary. Matthew was one of the vault's physicians in-training and knew that he's still miles away from being a full-blown doctor in terms of experience, but not even the vault's infirmary could help him with that: Vault 13 was a safe place and no real medical emergencies ever occurred. Just like all the days before, Doctor Phillips took care of the odd patient with a sprained ankle or hypochondria while Matt wasted away in the corner reading the same medical textbook for the hundredth time and sometimes exchanged a few words with the other physician in-training, Lauren, who had the disposition of a rock. She stayed after working hours to talk to Doc Phillips about one or another detail in the textbook she's already read fifteen hundred times while Matthew couldn't get to his bed fast enough.

The door to his room slid upwards with a silent 'swish' and he went inside. Entering his bedroom he found the most adorable creature sitting on his bed going through his stash of old comics.

'Welcome home' she smiled. 'How was your day, -honey-?'

Matthew smiled and waved his hand dismissively, then sat down on the bed behind her and pulled her to an embrace.

'Ah, feeling cuddly today?'

She threw the comic book on the bed sheets and put her hand on his as they shared a few minutes of quiet so close to each other.

Evelyn was the most beautiful girl Matthew has ever seen, both live in the vault and in its stash of magazines, holotapes, and paintings. She was tall, lean, with wonderful straight black hair and blue eyes. Evelyn was in the vault's technical team, an engineer in training. She often talked about their 'family' with Matthew: he was a doctor, a rather distracted and sensitive guy, good in the kitchen, while she was a dirty gear-head with a good throwing hand at baseball and tragic luck in the kitchen. Nevertheless, she was one of the most brilliant minds in the vault, and Matthew being quite sharp as well they found it easy and interesting to talk with each other, and that eventually grew into what they would each call love in their minds. A few months ago they even sealed their love with some makeshift rings, more of a mockery of marriage as both agreed that it was, as the song goes, 'for old folks'. Matthew's ring represented him as a physician: it was a small surgical tube filled with phosphorus and glued together: small, carefully made, and in a way elegant. The ring Evelyn gave to Matthew, in contrast, was a rusty nail bent five times to make a roughly circular shape. For some reason, he laughed when she gave it to him and always thought it was ingenious.

'Matt?'

Evelyn broke Matthew's train of thought and he slowly took his eyes off the ring on her finger and looked her in the eyes, which instantly made him worry. She looked scared, tense, and uncertain.

'Matt… you won't be seeing me for a while.'

'Are you going on a vacation?' Matthew asked in a serious tone. Things like that always made her smile. It didn't work this time.

'There's… there's a problem with one of the vault's systems. I'll be staying down in Level 10 for a couple of days, me and some other technicians need to get this sorted out as soon as possible.'

Matthew nodded slowly. Is that why she was so tense, so scared? Impossible.

'Matt, I need you not to say a word of this to anyone. People might start to panic and…'

He pulled her closer to him and she stopped talking, returning the embrace a few moments later.

'Okay' he said without much emotion. 'Be safe.'

Right there and then he decided that it was bullshit, there was something else going on. Of course, he could only conclude this from small hints and assumptions, but it was his habit to always reject any ideas until he was absolutely sure they were true.

Evelyn spent the night with him and woke up early in the morning, her nose in Matthew's back. She sat up in Matt's one-person bed and looked at the back of her boyfriend's head and upper back. He was pale like most of the vault dwellers and he had straight brown hair that she adored. Silently, she kissed him on the neck and brushed her fingers through his hair, wanting only to look at his dark green eyes before she went. Alas.

She got out of bed as quietly as she could, grabbed her blue and yellow vault jumpsuit, and put it on in the living room, then quietly left his apartment. Matthew opened his eyes. That kiss on the neck, her fingers running through his hair… that was a goodbye.

Vault 13

2161-12-05 5:14 AM

In the following two days Matthew learnt that there indeed was something amiss at the lower levels of the Vault - Lauren's father was also in maintenance and one day she shared her concern about him not coming home from work after telling their family he was sent by the Overseer to look into a situation down in the lower levels. Matthew was actually surprised to learn Evelyn's story was true, but there was still a shadow of doubt in his mind: something wasn't right about the way she looked at him that day.

On the fifth of December, Overseer Jacoren, the supreme leader of the underground utopia of Vault 13, contacted Matthew though the intercom waking him up from his sleep and asked him to come to his office at once. That was strange, and not only because of the hour, Matthew reasoned as he stepped into the elevator and began his descent to the very bottom of the vault. If there really was some sort of a technical emergency, why would the Overseer call him? If it was something serious and people got hurt, wouldn't it make more sense to call Doctor Phillips? Unless it's a total disaster and there's a lot of casualties…

Level Ten of the vault housed the library, the canteen, and, separated from the two with a vault door with red stripes on it, the Control Section where Overseer's Office was located, right next to the most important of the vault's systems. The Vault Security Guard saw Matthew approaching and punched in a code that opened the door to the control room. Matthew barely nodded and continued onward. There were several technicians flocking around the vault's main console, even at this hour. They looked scared and understandably sleep-deprived, and those that the young physician knew and saw looked older than the last time he did. He looked around trying to find Evelyn, but she was nowhere in sight. Figures - she was an engineer, not a computer expert, she's probably working on something like water lines or the ventilation.

'Water lines or the ventilation?' If that was the case, the vault was in very deep. What the hell was it that the Overseer wanted from him?

Overseer Jacoren was an elderly man, a bit on the chubby side as the most important person in the vault, but still very lively for his age. He sat atop his grotesque chair that looked like a 2.5 meter tall steel mushroom with a bowl squeezed into its cap so a person could sit in there. When Matthew approached him, Jacoren spoke up from way up high in his chair.

'Ah, Matthew Coyle, you're here! Good! Look, I'll be frank: we have a problem, a big one.'

'Here goes' Matt thought, afraid of what he's going to hear next.

'The controller chip for our water purification system has… well, given up the ghost. We can't make another one and the process is too complicated for the workaround systems.'

'So we're running out of drinking water' Matthew interrupted. His eyes were now glassy and wide, and his whole body completely numb. His home, the only home he ever knew, and his entire world, was crumbling around him. He didn't know much about all the technical stuff but he knew a water purification system controller chip is one of these things vault would be done for without.

It seems the vault is done for, then.

'How much time do we have?' he asked, wrestling mentally with the weakness that invaded his knees.

'Four to five months.'

Matthew cupped his forehead and took a deep breath. 'Okay, okay, okay, concentrate, it's okay, these things can be worked out, there must be something we can do' he thought to himself. The Overseer allowed him a few moments to collect himself and was about to speak when Matthew took his hand off his forehead and looked the Overseer straight in the eye with a determination that surprised the old man.

'In that case I'll be glad to help in any way I can, but I'm just a doctor's apprentice, and I doubt I can offer you any help on this matter.'

The Overseer smiled and Matthew found this deeply unsettling.

'I started calling technicians in one by one when the accident occurred one week ago' Jacoren started. 'I told them what I just told you, and all they could say was 'that's impossible!', 'we're done for!', 'tell me it's not true!', or absolutely nothing at all. You're the first person to show such determination to overcome this obstacle and that's why I believe you're the man for the job.'

'What job?' Matthew couldn't help but feel danger sneaking up from behind him, about to attack.

'Tomorrow evening I will dismiss the technical team, the entire week of diligent work showed that there's no way we can fix this. I will tell the people about our problem, start rationing out the water. In the meantime, I will need you to go and find a new controller chip.'

There it was, the bomb!

'Go find it… you mean, go outside?'

'Yes' Jacoren was staring at Matthew intently now. 'I believe you're the only hope we have.'

'But why me, why not someone who would take care of themselves better out there…'

'Because you're smart, I believe you will take care of yourself just fine, and the obligatory medical test results show that you're one of the few people in here that are likely to handle coming outside after living all their lives in the underground well.'

It made no sense to Matthew, but he understood something must be done. Besides, it's not like it was his place to argue with the vault's royal majesty up on his mushroom throne.

'When do I leave?' Matthew asked bluntly.

'Seven AM.' Jacoren replied. 'A bag with survival essentials has already been prepared for you and I need you to spend the time until then preparing for the journey. I want you to be out of here before eight when I'll announce the news to the public.'

'Can I at least see Evelyn before I go?' Matthew asked. His parents had died several years ago during an irradiated roach infestation that originated from a cave that suddenly appeared right next to one of the areas of the Control Section, and he needed to talk to someone close before he went.

The Overseer shook his head. 'I don't want -anyone- to know you left before eight. This is a sensitive issue and I'm expecting a lot of unrest in the coming weeks, I do not want a rebellion in this section. Once you're out they'll understand that the card has been played and won't flock to the vault door in panic to slip out as you leave. I'm sorry.'

Matthew felt crushed, though somewhere inside him there was a motor that started running, a dark and determined drive to do what was necessary.

'We'll update your Pip-Boy with the location of another vault' the Overseer continued. 'Not a bad place to start, I think. All of the vaults were supposed to have a few extra chips, but ours didn't arrive, probably a mix-up in shipments before the war. Look... just be safe, okay?'

Matthew sensed something was off in that last fraise, but decided to say nothing. Two hours later, he stood in front of the giant cog-shaped vault door with a backpack filled with survival gear on his back, his Pip-Boy full of downloaded survival manuals, a pair of dark shades on his eyes, and a 10mm pistol on his hip. The Overseer himself flipped the switch and the vault door opened slowly, sirens going off and warning Matthew of the danger ahead.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the dark and determined knot inside him. Fuck the odds and warning sirens, he must go… all alone, probably not sufficiently prepared. He walked through the door, the first steps hard and reluctant, but each subsequent one filled with more and more determination. Fuck the odds. He's going to save his people.

The vault door closed behind him and he was left alone in the darkness of a damp cave.

Shady Sands

2161-12-05 07:11 AM

Shady Sands was a peaceful community of farmers living in adobe houses surrounded by adobe wall. From where she was standing it looked like a lot of dirt and cattle crap.

The stranger on the dune was an African-American woman in her early thirties, clad in a weathered brown trench-coat. She was wearing large black shades and her shoulder-long black curly hair fell loose from underneath a stylish pre-war hat, the kind men used to wear. Attached to the side of her small backpack was a Winchester City-Killer 12-gauge shotgun, two Desert Eagle pistols rest on her hips and there was a Combat Knife secured in a holster on both of her heavy army boots. The stranger looked a bit sour, even more so when frowning at the unimpressive town before her.

'Well fuck me sideways' she thought to herself. 'These bastards had the accurate location of this dump! And here I was thinking I'll spend the day looking for the town in the general area of a gazillion square kilometers. Looks like wasteland cartography's not as hopeless as I thought.'

Approaching the settlement the traveler saw a bulky man and a scrawny woman guarding the gate. Of course, the woman is here to chat with the newcomers and appeal to their good side, while the bulky man, probably mute as well, served as a warning for troublemakers not to make trouble. For some reason, she had the idea she could burn the place down if she wanted to and not encounter any formidable resistance. At least the walls looked solid.

'Hey, hi!' the scrawny woman smiled at the stranger when she was in hearing range. 'I am Katrina, this is Seth. We both want to welcome you to Shady Sands! Everyone's welcome here as long as they're peaceful and do not cause any trouble.'

The woman took a glimpse at this Seth man. Was he a better guard, he's be sizing her up right now, but instead he was visibly doing his best to luck tough. Weak.

'Yeah, hi, I need a place to crash and a bar with at least half-decent booze.' The stranger said. Katrina frowned.

'Well, we let visitors stay in the common house for a small fee, but… we don't have a bar. The cook should have some spirits in stock and you can drink them in the canteen, it's also in the common house.'

'Un-fucking-believable' The stranger swore under her breath. 'Okay.' She said and proceeded inside.

'Oh!' The woman jumped up. 'What was your name again?'

The stranger stopped and turned around.

'Tabitha. Tabitha Bleu.'

Mount Whitney

2161-12-05 07:17 AM

The cave the entry to Vault 13 was located in was a small one, though it had a sizeable rat infestation. The rats all ran away at the sight at Matthew's flare though.

Coming to the outside world for the first time was a horrible experience for Matthew. He took a single look at the barren rocky mountain landscape and the brown and gray wasteland beyond, all under an immense blue sky and his knees almost failed him. His stomach tied to a knot and he felt like he was falling upwards. Matthew held his hastily eaten breakfast inside and leaned against the cave's mouth for support. After a few minutes, these terrible sensations subsided and Matthew took another fresh look.

The outside world was immense. He felt like it would take him a day to reach the horizon alone, and this outside world is supposed to be billions of times larger than that. All of the surrounding looked barren, scorched, and were very silent, almost disturbingly so. 'This world is my enemy by itself' Matthew thought. It would take a large portion of his strength just to keep walking ahead, not to mention the post-apocalyptic horrors he would certainly have to face.

Once again he looked inside himself into his knot of dark determination, and possibly frowned, building invisible defenses from the world around him. Just like when stepping through the vault's door, his first steps faltered, but he eventually picked up pace, unaware of the heights he will come to walk into.

Shady Sands

2161-12-05 08:11 AM

As soon as Tabitha sat down in the cool canteen of the Shady Sands common house with a newly purchased bottle of some local beverage called 'Scotch' (chances are it's nothing like Scotch) she was approached by a tan young girl with glittering eyes.

'I heard there was a traveler in town but I was kinda skeptical until I saw you' the young started excitedly, sitting down right in front of Tabitha. 'My name is Tandi, what's yours?'

'Tabitha' she replied cautiously. She just didn't like that sort of people - chatty, childish… making friends right off the bat.

'Well, hello, Tabitha, welcome to Shady Sands. How do you like it? Bored yet?'

Tabitha smiled. What little she saw of the town let her conclude without a doubt that this was a really boring place. 'Yeah, doesn't look like there's anythin' to do here at all.'

The girl's eyes widened with excitement. 'Finally! Someone else who sees! Of course, you probably must've been everywhere so this…' she motioned around her with her hand 'this must be hell for you.'

'Wasteland's wasteland' Tabitha shrugged. 'There must be somethin' happenin' here, I mean this town is right in the middle of the cutthroat wastes.'

'Well… I saw a radscorpion!' Tandi jumped up, but immediately settled down 'Well, it's not a good thing…' she excused herself 'but it's not they've killed anyone… Well, Jarvis is pretty much in a coma right now because of 'em, but Doc Razlo's taking real good care of him!'

'So you have a radscorpion problem, then?' Tabitha asked, her curiosity picked.

'Yeah, they keep attacking the farmers. I think Seth's tracked them down to their lair, but I'm not sure.'

'Hmmm. Who's the leader around here?'

'My dad is' Tandi replied, her mood becoming somewhat sad. 'His name is Aradesh and I can't go adventuring into the wastes like you because of him. He says he'd have a heart attack if something happened to me.'

'I'm sorry' Tabitha said without really meaning it. 'Where is he now?'

'There, in the corner, the robed man. Are you going to help up with the scorpions?' Her excitement came back.

'Yeah. I'll go talk to him right now.'

'Cool. Hey, could you share some of your adventures with me later? I've got work to do and I bet you've got some real good stories to tell.'

'Sure' she replied and stood up.

'Later, then! Got chores to do before dad sees me!'

Tandi ran out of the canteen and Tabitha approached the man. She wasn't really interested in helping this community, but she did need to get some mercenary work that would get her enough supplies to keep travelling.

'You Aradesh, right?' She asked the robed man. He was of some sort of Arabian descent and spoke with what seemed to be a multicultural accent.

'Yes, I am Aradesh, the faithful leader of Shady Sands. And who might you be?'

'Tabitha Bleu. I'm travellin' from up north to the Hub. I dropped by to rest...'

The man gave her an untrusting look. 'Yes, yes, yes... I shall believe you. For now. But we don't trust easily. Especially those who could be trouble.' He said, his eyes glancing briefly to the Desert Eagle pistol she had fixed on her side even while drinking, and added 'Know that Seth and I will be watching you.'

'I'm not gonna cause trouble,' she replied. 'On the contrary, I think I can help you.'

'Really?' Aradesh gave her another untrusting look. The professional 'cynical wastelander' look didn't work on him like it did with all the other employers. It came to her that she could try to sound like someone other than a cynical knuckle-dragger, but honestly, she always felt tired just thinking of it. Besides, it's professionalism she's showing off in her confidence, and if this man isn't looking for that in this situation he is an idiot.

'And what would you possibly help us with?'

'I can help you with your radscorpion problem. I can hunt 'em down, maybe even track them back to their lair. I've been shootin' them ever since I got my mom's milk off my lip, so I'm real good at it.'

'Yes, yes, yes... Yes. And I suppose you will not do this out of good will and compassion, but instead ask for some sort of a reward?'

'Duh.' Tabitha thought, but instead said 'Yeah, bullets cost some caps and I'm gonna need more food to reach the next place on my way. I think it's a real cheap price for getting radscorps out of your hair.'

'Hmmm...' The guy hesitated, seriously getting on Tabitha's nerve. 'Yes, I suppose that can be arranged. Talk with Seth. He can take you to the cave these scorpions keep coming from. Eliminate them and you will be given the reward you asked for.'

'The guy by the gate? Right.' Tabitha replied, relieved. 'I'll get to it tomorrow, I'm still tired from the road.'

'Very well. May Dharma watch over you, stranger.'

Tabitha turned around and walked into the next room with the bed she rented her bottle of 'Scotch' (more like watered down cologne) in hand. She fell on the mattress, which was very soft compared to what she's used to, and took a swill of the drink. Right. A town of pussies that look at a survivor of the wasteland with distaste. She should probably go there now, kill the scorpions, collect her reward, and leave before the town burns down or something: it's definitely not going to last. She can only hope that the Hub is a town with an actual future or else she might as well go back north.

Setting her bottle on the floor by the bed she took a pack of cigarettes out of her backpack and went outside to shake those thoughts away. She had an entire day of chilling before her.

Wasteland

2161-12-06 9:13 PM

Matthew's second day in the outside world was ending with a rather colourful sunset. He stopped to enjoy it for a while: it was probably the only thing he knew how to do around here: he wasn't used to walking around all day in the sand, and survival was somewhat difficult when you have never dug up sand in your life or held an axe and tried to cut branches off of dried trees for firewood. But more than that, it was the atmosphere that got to him. Immediately after leaving the mountains he found out that most of the old roads were broken or buried by sand. He found a few carcasses of what probably were roadside diners and gas stations, but these didn't even have walls. There were some broken-down cars here and there, and the odd one even had a skeleton inside. The wasteland, in Matthew's eyes, was a giant emptiness of the sky above and the sand below, dangerous in and of itself, and littered with mutilated remains of human civilization. It was also very silent, something Matt couldn't stand. Noise carried well in the underground labyrinths of Vault 13 and he found the silence unnerving, even more so he shot his gun: he was attacked by some hairless half-mole half-rat with its head reaching his knees when it was on all fours. He whipped out his 10mm gun and fired, which caused his hands and ears shout out in pain, something the gun failed to do to the creature until the fourth shot. Now Matthew had piss-poor marksmanship to add to his list of reasons he's afraid to fail.

Just when he was about to settle on the evening of the second day of his quest, the young vault dweller noticed what looked like an intact building up ahead, and decided to check it out. When he got to it up and down the many dunes underway it was already almost an hour later. Apparently, it was a small gas station that still had walls and, unbelievably, a ceiling. Just like in the movies, Matthew took his gun from its holster, pointed it at the door, and, for some reason, knocked. There was no response. Matthew frowned at his own actions and just opened the door into the small shop in the gas station.

He took a step into the shop and stopped: the image before him was too disturbing. He'd seen old gas stations in holotape movies in the vault, and what stood before him was some sort of a twisted abomination of that thing. The place reeked and was full of dust Matthew's 'spoiled' nasal cavity had a problem with. The colours on the walls, floors, counters, and some small freezers were all faded, there were empty cans and boxes littered all over the floor, and even a couple of blood stains. Rays of light came in through small holes in the ceiling, illuminating the large amount of dust falling into the small building. There was a stack of rags in the corner, probably a post-apocalyptic bed, some duffle bags, and even a fire pit, though it all seemed abandoned long ago, everything being covered by a layer of dust littered with small lines of what seemed to be rat footprints. It was all silent.

Matthew put down his backpack next to an old freezer and, his weapon still in hand, decided to look around. By the looks of it, this place was home to maybe three or four people, probably struggling. There were some bones in the fire pit, probably from a wild dog that was eaten by the residents. Aside from the ancient store clutter, there wasn't much else here, so these people were probably poor and struggling. This was a sad sight and, after having wished to meet at least a single person for the last two days, Matthew suddenly felt he doesn't want it anymore - the world now would probably be too sad and scary.

There were two bathrooms and a door to the shipping and maintenance areas down the hall, and the vault dweller noticed a small chair, probably dragged from behind the counter, blocking the door to one of the bathrooms, probably to trap something inside... or someone.

It was scary. But he -did- need to find out.

The station remained painfully silent as Matthew walked up to the door and listened inside to hear the same silence. Slowly, he removed the chair and opened the door.

A thick ray of sunlight fell on the ruined bathroom of the gas station. It was dirty and smelled worse than the rest of the station the reason being obvious - a dead body laid on its side right by the door, seemingly the remains of a person who just laid down to sleep and died. He was dried up and shrivelled, and surprisingly was not the reason for the stench in the station - despite being taken aback both literally and figuratively Matthew, a physician in training, remembered that mummies do not release such a strong aroma. The mummy was also misshapen - carrion eaters, probably rats, had a go at its flesh before it was too dry. Out of habit to learn everything he can, Matt took a brief glimpse at the inside door: positive for scratch marks, meaning he - or she - was trapped inside.

Matthew shut the door, the sleeve of his jumpsuit pressing against his nose to save it from nonexistent stench of decomposition, and stumbled to one of the small freezers. Someone had left that person to die! There were such monsters in this god-forsaken place! Despite himself, Matthew imagined the torture the person had to go through locked in that place, which, at least, was not completely dark because of the hole in the ceiling, which probably also served to torture him. Matthew's mind drifted back in time. When he was a kid, he and his friends liked to play Vault War in the vault hallways - half of the kids would be vault dwellers and the other half would be foul mutants that the vault dwellers had to kill after coming out to the surface. Back then, young boys went to great lengths to describe the unseen gore of this war: 'Drop! I blew your brains out!', 'He shot you right in the eye!', 'Man, you turned his head into a red mist!', 'Oh! Oh! My guts are falling out! Ah, come help me put them back in!' Funny how easy it was to think of it back then, to think that guts pouring down of the floor through a hole was cool when in reality a simple dried-up cadaver seen with little detail in shadow can suck the strength out of your joints. Of course, thanks to these games he played, Matthew imagined the surface would be a wild and bloody place filled with war and guts, and, even in his teenage years, felt confident he could make it through these threats. When forced to leave, he prayed he would avoid all of that, but still secretly thought he could be somewhat useful. But now... no. He was not ready. He cannot survive here.

His breathing was frantic, his legs shaking, and his stomach filled with burning butterflies. The outside world was too dangerous, too full of death, too much to handle.

He has a task, he can't give up, the lives of many are at stake.

He cannot succeed. He's a doctor, not a butcher, he might as well just lay down and die and save himself a -real- bloody and horrific death.

But he must press on, he must at least try, he can't just give up...

And, once again, with the thoughts of duty, saving lives, and marching on no matter what, that cold dark knot of determination rose up inside him. He embraced it. Is he going to lay down his arms and give up? Is he too small and helpless to even try? Is he just going to die without trying and just admit his life is worthless? Hell no! He looked around himself. He needs a place to sleep and this will do. It just will. If there are rats abound he could do something to avoid any rats biting on him on his sleep. A board on one of the freezers will do, and a large board from the back of the shelf is just lying over there - he pulled it on the freezer. The stack of rags over there is probably full of all sorts of little bastards so he'll just use his sleeping bag. If there are hostile people in the area like the one who trapped that person inside the bathroom, he should be more wary, probably travel nights to avoid being seen. Sleeping in the open wasteland at night is also a bad idea as desert wildlife hunts at night, he'd just have to find or make a good shade at night. Also, if the people here know about the vaults and recognizes him as a vault dweller, he should change his clothes... the duffle bag by the stack of rags that passed for a bedroll has some clothes in it - blue jeans, white shirt, and a black leather jacket with its right sleeve missing will do. He'll also need to learn which animals are edible and hone his survival skills.

He got in the new clothes. He will not give up. He will survive this.

Radscorpion Caves

2161-12-07 4:34 PM

Tabitha pulled the trigger on her shotgun only to find out that she was out of shells.

'Shit!' She exclaimed at the approaching human-sized mutated scorpion. She wasted about a dozen of other radscorpions in the cave without any greater problem, but she just -had- to run out of shells when the last remaining radscorpion was rushing to sting her to death. With another couple of obscenities, she started reloading the gun, briefly recalling how she fired the last of her Desert Eagle bullets at the mantis she encountered while travelling here with Seth, who turned back and returned to his guard duty after accompanying her for the greater part of the road.

'Fucking hell!' Tabitha exclaimed again as she understood that the radscorpion will have his stinger up her ass before she could reload. She started running backwards and managed to slow the rate at which the arachnid was closing up to her. She successfully reloaded and was about to take aim when she suddenly hit a rock wall behind her. The impact momentarily surprised her and stopped her from aiming. And of course, the radscorpion took this opportunity to immediately close up to her and drive his stinger into her shoulder.

'Fuck!'

With extra strength from all the adrenaline in her, Tabitha quickly swung her shotgun to the right, knocking the stinger out of her shoulder before it could cause much damage, and dropping to her left and rolling aside. The large arachnid, as Tabitha predicted, took a long time to turn the ninety degrees to her, and Tabitha was able to stand up, turn at the arachnid, and aim. The arachnid started charging, but Tabitha didn't shoot just then. As the foe closed up it lowered its pincers from its face to drive the stinger into Tabitha again, but the weathered merc was not about to let that happen. As soon as there were no pincers between her rifle and the arachnid's face, she squeezed the trigger and fired a buck shot to the beast's face from barely a meter away. With a hole in her shoulder shooting a scattergun like that stung like a bitch, but she managed to bite down on her lip and deliver four more shells at the bastard before it fell down dead, some sickening yellow substance slowly pouring out of its face.

'Shit-fuck-sonuvabich-fucking-bastard' Tabitha went through obscenities like a gut shot victim went through morphine as she grabbed her first aid kit from her backpack and treated the wound, trying to calculate how much venom could be coursing through her veins right now. She already used up all of her antidote bottles while travelling and as she learnt from Seth Hickville, California didn't know how to make them yet. She took out her combat knife and cut off the tail off of one of the creatures, knowing also that their resident doctor by some miracle already realized a cure could be made from the venom itself.

She went outside as fast as she could. Shady Sands was almost a day away; she even camped farther from the caves last night not wanting to go into the nest of nocturnal predators at night. Could she make it? Hell if she knows, but Tabitha-fucking-Bleu was not going to die because of some bastard scorpion. She fixed to the east and started walking, already getting nauseous from the venom.

'Push through, Betty, you're tougher than that' she kept telling herself. Reaching the top of a dune she looked around out of pure habit and saw a silhouette of another human being on the second dune ahead.

'Probably raider, slaver, or cannibal' she frowned clutching her wounded shoulder. Keeping her eyes on the figure as she descended, the experienced merc disgracefully tripped and rolled down the dune. 'Fuck' she swore as she struggled to stand up, the world starting to shake around her. 'Fuck, this won't do, I'll be out cold before I'm back in town.'

She crawled up the next dune and looked around. The figure was gone.

'That was probably my only chance...' she thought descending again. Then she shook her head 'No, fuck no, there are no Samaritans wondering around the wasteland, only raiders and...'

The figure appeared atop a dune in front of her. 'He was travelling east and saw me, then approached me' Tabitha thought, and although her vision was starting to blur she still realized the man approaching her had a pistol in his hand.

'Fuck no' she reached around to grab her rifle and, already disoriented, fell down to the sand again trying to reach it. She quickly lost the backpack and drew her shotgun. Kneeling on the sand, she turned the gun to the blurry figure that was almost on top of her.

'I'm gonna blow your fucking brains out' she said, unconvincingly.

'You're sick' she heard a stern response. The voice was like cold metal and almost made Tabitha shiver.

'Yeah, and what're you gonna do about it?'

The figure holstered the pistol. 'If you can tell me if there's some sort of a safe place around here, I could take you there.'

'Really?' Tabitha shook her head.

'I'm not the one with a gun in my hands and I want to find a safe place to rest so our interests are aligned.'

The man took off his shades and sat down on one knee before her. It was a young man, probably around eighteen by the looks of it, with a pale face and brown hair.

The stranger put his hand on her rifle and lowered it slowly. 'Will you let me help you or should I just leave you here? I need you as much as you need me.'

Tabitha dropped her shotgun on the sand beside her, lost for words. She'll just have to trust him.

'East' she finally said. 'Shady Sands, a day away.'

'Okay.' He said and helped her stand upright. Despite the cold voice, his touch was surprisingly gentle.

'Let's go.' He said. 'We'd better hurry, by the looks of it you're in pretty deep. What's your name?'

'Tabitha.'

'Okay, Tabitha. I'm Matt.'


	3. Juggernauts

A/N: I don't own Fallout. Damn.

The world was blurry and his knees were weak, but he knew he had to keep walking. Left foot, right foot, left foot... then he tripped, rolled down the dune, and just lay on his back too weak to move. There was a silhouette in the blur, and it was approaching him. He was scared.

'Oh, Matt! What happened?' The woman's voice was cheerful. She knelt down beside Matthew, letting her long black hair touch his cheeks. In an instant, the blur disappeared and the world was clear again.

'Evelyn?'

'Ah, you're alive it seems!' she kept smiling. 'But it's hard, isn't it? Travelling through the desert, looking for water... I bet you're tired.'

He nodded weakly and sat up, then ran his hand gently down Evelyn's cheek. 'Where have you been?'

'Here and there. And it seems I was in a much better place than you. Just look how dirty you are!'

Matt couldn't take his eyes off of her.

'It's really nice, what you did' Evelyn continued. 'You saved that woman's life. You selflessly kept walking on even when she lost consciousness and fell on you with her full weight. You made it, against all odds!'

A silence fell between them. Matt wanted nothing more than to embrace her and never let go, but couldn't move a muscle.

'You're a good person, Matt. And you know what they say: if you're good, the angels will protect you. They'll look at you from Heaven and steer all harm out of your way.'

'Evelyn.'

'You're being protected by angels, Matt. Angels like me.'

Matthew merely blinked and when he opened his eyes he was staring at the ceiling of an adobe building, the Shady Sands Common House.

'What the...' He sat slowly upright, disturbed by the dream and the unfamiliar surroundings.

'Right...' He thought 'I dragged that woman here... This is that settlement... I passed out in front of the gate guards... I am safe...'

He looked around the large room filled with beds. There wasn't a single person in sight, but he could hear several conversations in the next room, separated from this one by a curtain.

Slowly standing up Matthew concentrated and tried to make sense of this situation, to determine his next move. He needs to talk to someone, to learn about this place he's wandered into. The world after the Armageddon would surely be a rough one and he needs to get his feet wet as soon as possible.

With that thought, the black mass of cold determination within him woke up. He took a deep breath and embraced it, forcing his doubts away and adopting a serious look. 'Right' he thought and removed the curtain to the next room almost bumping his head into a small girl who made a smile almost wider than her face.

'Ah! You're awake! Cool! Awesome! You're, like, the hero that saved Tabitha! So awesome what you did! Oh, but I'm Tandi, what's your name?'

Looking at the young girl's honestly excited face Matthew immediately let his guard down with relief, exhaling and even cracking a smile 'Hi, Tandi. I'm Matthew. This is Shady Sands, right?'

'Yeah. Not much to look at, but it's been kinda cool and exciting since Tabitha arrived, and now you! I thought you were hurt bad by the way they dragged you past the gate, but then Doc Razlo just put you here to rest!'

'Doc Razlo?' Matt tried to keep the conversation going.

'Yeah. He took Tabitha to the infirmary and told Seth to take you here.'

'And how's Tabitha?'

'Doc said she'll be fine once he makes a cure and gives it to her... Did you help her fight the scorpions? Like, rushed in at the last minute and blasted them away?'

'No, nothing like that. I'll tell you the story if you like, but first, could you perhaps show me around your town?'

The young girl jumped into the air, letting out another brief shriek in excitement 'Yeah, yeah, of course, I mean, it's boring as hell, but... come on!'

Tandi basically pulled Matthew out of the room and started showing her around town, running excitedly between the doctor's office, the guard house, the brahmin pens, and the like. He got to see Tabitha for a bit, though she still was unconscious from the venom. He also met Doctor Razlo who just offered him a crooked smile and asked where he was headed. When Matthew told him he's heading towards Vault 15 the doctor recommended him to talk to the gate guard Katrina, and Matthew could barely say thank you before Tabitha pulled him out of the infirmary to talk to some mercenary who was in town.

Following Tandi around town, Matthew was soon lost for words as the outside world continued to confuse him. Apparently, the new currency of the United States was now bottle caps, and a large part of an American's diet consisted of two-headed cow beef and the meat of lizards of various size. The vault dweller didn't know what to think of this, but it nevertheless made him want to go running back to his vault to hide from this insane world. The worst part - it's either this or the wasteland where your life in constantly threatened.

'Tandi, I believe you have chores to do, yes?' An older man approached Tandi and the sudden break from her chatting actually broke his chain of unrelated thoughts.

'Aw. Alright, dad. Guess we'll go brahmin tipping later, Matt! See you!'

Aradesh watched Tandi as she ran off with a warm smile and then turned to the stranger. 'Hello, you are Matthew, yes?'

'Yes. Hello...'

'I wanted to give you a proper welcome to Shady Sands. You have become quite a celebrity. It is nice what you have done for that woman Tabitha. Even though she certainly wouldn't have done the same for you.'

'She wouldn't?' He didn't understand where this was going.

'No' Aradesh shook his head 'She is a woman of the wasteland, she cares only about herself and believes only in herself. But you - you saved a stranger, and thus Dharma will watch you in your journeys.'

Dharma watching over? Angels... Evelyn...

Matthew suddenly realized he didn't want any of this anymore.

'It's only human' Matthew responded after a while 'I am sorry, I have to go, I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'll just get off your back.'

'Ah, no, not at all, you are -always- welcome here in Shady Sands.'

'Th-thanks... I'll... Good-bye' Matthew gave him a small bow for some reason and Aradesh bowed back at him with a smile a bit wider than before.

'Shit' Matt could only think as he rushed back into the Common Room. 'Shit, the hell is wrong with me?' Shady Sands was a nice and peaceful place, but Matthew could almost feel as if some invisible force was pushing him out. He couldn't stand being here, no matter how nice a place it was. And then the memory of that dream...

Matthew's conversation with the scrawny gate guard was a brief one, and Katrina didn't manage a smile this time staring at Matthew like had a hole in his head. From Katrina he learned that Vault 15 was the original birthplace of many of Shady Sands residents, as well as most of the raider gangs in the region. It was attacked recently and now stands abandoned. 'It's not like I'll have to knock, ask for the chip, and go back, it seems' he thought as he gave the 'guard' a brief nod, and returned to the Common Room to rest up and prepare for the nocturnal journey.

Shady Sands

2161-12-09 01:23 PM

Tabitha woke up with the worst hangover ever.

'Fuck you all' she said with her eyes closed as was her hangover custom when she was a caravan guard.

Upon opening her eyes, she saw a man sitting at the table next to her bed. The man was looking at her with an eyebrow raised. Suddenly, memories rushed back into her head and she understood where she was.

'Ah, shit!' she swore. 'I mean, hi! Shit. Um...'

'Ah, feeling better, I see' the man said. 'I am doctor Razlo of Shady Sands.' The man said. 'You were brought here with a case of radscorpion poisoning, but you'll live, no serious damage done.'

'No damage?' She said, slowly getting her wit back. 'I've got one badass headache, that's already a shitload o'damage.'

The man smiled. 'Thought you wasteland types had a bit more stuffing in you.'

'Wh- where's Matt?' Tabitha asked, dismissing the slight insult.

'Um... he suddenly up and left yesterday, can't say I know where he went...'

'Yesterday? How long have been lying here?'

'Don't worry, just two days.' He took something from his table and handed it to Tabitha. It was a small bowl of what looked like root and herb paste. 'You must eat. And walk around if you feel strong enough, just don't overdo it. You're still weak but lying in bed won't magically cure you.'

'He's... is he from around here?' Tabitha asked putting a spoonful of gruesome stuff in her mouth.

'No, I am sure nobody here really knows who he is. Now, you finish that paste, I have to check up on Jarvis. He's been in a pretty bad shape since he was stung. Which reminds me, it was you and Matthew who brought the poison sack, so my services are free. I was thinking about hiring someone to do it anyway.'

Razlo left and let Tabitha finish that disgusting paste. She lay back down again, her mind straying back to the events that transpired, apparently, two days ago. She chanced upon a person who genuinely saved her out in the wasteland and just left without demanding for some sort of a reward. Saying it's weird doesn't begin to cover it. Usually the ones to do these sorts of things are religious freaks, self-proclaimed heroes that never last long, and really weak people who help others in foolish hopes someone else will help them in their time of need. Either of these ways, the person is a weak fool. But that voice that spoke to her, the cold, seemingly metallic, strong voice... It didn't add up with any of those categories of people.

Tabitha shivered. She's been saved by heroes and religious freaks occasionally but this was different - all because of that voice. Razlo said he left, though. Damn. She won't be able to meet him.

Slowly, she fell asleep again, replaying her meeting with Matthew in her head and trying each time to pierce the mist on her eyes and see him.

Wasteland

2161-12-10 05:12 AM

The wasteland was silent. Matthew looked around him. In the morning light he saw some cliffs in the distance and a small shack halfway to them. Entrance to the vault? Makes no sense, but...

He went inside the shack, the coordinates of which were identical to those of Vault 15 and, to his surprise, found a trapdoor.

'Still tired from the road...' he thought to himself 'but whatever, I can do this.'

And so he descended with the dark knot of determination leading the way.

Once down, he found himself in a cave infested with rats, which ran away to hide when he lit up a flare. The cave was a rather long one, and Matt calculated he must've walked halfway to the cliffs when he finally saw a wider passage on his left, and a bit further down - the entrance to Vault 15. Matthew stopped. The giant cog shaped door of the vault, identical to the door of his own vault except for the number 15 on them instead of 13, was lying on the cave floor, one side of it singed. He couldn't even see the vault inside through the subterranean darkness, but from the rust and dirt that covered the other half of the vault door he concluded he didn't really want to. This is, after all, another vault.

A shriek of one of the mole-rat mutants he'd met in the wasteland shook Matthew awake from his train of thoughts. One of the little beasts was charging at him. His hands somewhat sluggish he removed his pistol from the holster and took his shot while holding the flare in his left hand. A miss. A miss. A miss. A hit. The fourth bullet went right into the front left leg of the beast, making it stop in its tracks and allowing Matthew to take a few steps closer and finish his foe off with acceptable precision. The caves fell quiet again and Matthew assessed the 'battle' in his head. He's still bad with the gun, his supply of light is limited, and he has ten levels of a vault to descend in order to retrieve the chip from the main computer next to the Overseer's office... provided this place was planned exactly like Vault 13.

He took a deep breath. Okay, concentrate, go in, go nine levels down, get the chip, get out, that's all anyone's asking of you.

He opened his eyes and frowned, the dark knot of determination dominating his thoughts. Even if the vault is infested like Hell, Matthew isn't going to give up. It's underground, the place where he was born, the place where he grew up, and the place where he shot up so many enemies in his childhood games. He is not going to lose here.

And with this, he passed the empty doorway to the vault.

Shady Sands

2161-12-10 11:47 AM

Tabitha sat idly in the cool of the common house of Shady Sands, back on her feet again, sort of, and shamelessly drinking the terrible local moonshine before the noon. She just sat at her table and gazed blankly into the wall, her head supported by her right hand, still feeling a bit woozy from the sickness, but thoroughly enjoying the cool, the laziness, and the god-awful alcohol, cursing only the fact that the locals want her to smoke outside, and she was torn between staying in the cool and smoking in the heat of the noon. She would decide against moving an inch each time it came up.

Aradesh visited her earlier. He said he will have her reward ready by the next morning, and Tabitha was allowed to stay in the common house and get meals for free until she leaves. Aradesh was cheerful this time around, but from a few small details Tabitha understood he didn't want her overstaying her welcome.

Seth the gate guard visited her too. Said he was sorry he couldn't go with her, and all that crap. Typical. If she hadn't almost been killed, he wouldn't give a brahmin's shit about it, but now that she was hurt doing a task he was told not to help her with, he suddenly felt guilty. His visit was a brief one and Tabitha was thankful for that.

Tabitha's empty gaze travelled down to her own table, on which she had spread an old pre-war map with over half a dozen new markers made with a simple pencil. Tabitha switched the arms that supported her head, took up the pencil with the right one, and began to highlight a hastily-written large letter R in the large area southeast of Shady Sands, marking increased raider activity. She already had the settlement The Brotherhood (whatever it was) and The Hub, her final destination, marked on her map, with some dangerous areas marked as well. She measured the distance between Shady Sands and The Hub and felt pretty confident she could make it, especially since there was Junktown a bit more than halfway through the distance, though Seth couldn't say where it was exactly. Anyway, things are looking up. Just two weeks ago, when she was still north of Shady Sands, there were no settlements marked on her map in entire the vast distance between her location and The Hub: people just said there is nothing down south except for 'a hub' somewhere. Knowing she would need more food to get to her destination than she would ever be able to lift, Tabitha wandered around the settlements along the south, hoping someone would know something, at least a rumour. Then, during one of her travels, a most impossible encounter took place.

She was crossing a labyrinth of rocks when suddenly, as she made a turn, she practically rammed into what looked like a human-shaped tank. Indeed, it was a human, clad in massive shining metal armour, adorned with an emblem, depicting a winged sword and three gears. The man in his forties had his helmet off and his laser pistol trained at her. She had to surrender her weapons and go with him to a small camp where four more of those tank-men were. After questioning her extensively, the men were at least polite enough to answer her question 'who the fucking hell are you?' Tabitha had forgotten what exactly the response sounded like, but it was something along 'the paladins of the order of steel'. Tabitha deduced they were on a scouting mission, because they demanded to see her map and scanned it with some piece of their technology, remarking about how lucky they were. They escorted her to the edge of the rocky labyrinth, returned her weapons and told her to walk forward and not turn back until she was at least three kilometres away. Tabitha only dared to turn back when these rocks were only a thin line on the horizon. She wasn't sure if these men were already gone, but she had other things on her mind: surprisingly enough, when she dared to ask them about any settlements they'd know down south, they showed her the location of Shady Sands and didn't even charge a single bottle cap for it. Her path due south was open and she never saw these strange men since, not even meeting anyone who could tell her who they were. But now she had a pretty good hunch it wasn't 'order of steel', but 'brotherhood of steel', the base of which is probably marked in the map in front of her as 'The Brotherhood', a location beyond the mountains southwest of Shady Sands, though not as far south as the Hub. She would probably never need to go there, but she still wanted to know more, though the only thing she could speculate about was that they were active mostly in the area south of their base: they didn't know any settlements more to the north than Shady Sands, but knew at least the area between their base and the cities of Los Angeles and Bakersfield quite well. That was a bit disturbing, these men had some serious hardware on them and they were about to get on the move. Perhaps she should investigate it more...

'Ah, fuck it'

With a sigh, she folded the map tidily and put it aside, trying not to think of the grim future at least until she's in The Hub. She took a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and put one in her mouth while slowly walking outside. 'I'll have a smoke, find Tandi, see if she'd heard anything, and ask if anyone else would know. Better than doing nothing.'

And that she did, and as always, 'work' helped. From what she wouldn't admit even to herself, though she was quite aware she was confused - first and foremost because of that guy named Matthew.

Vault 15

2161-12-10 02:13 PM

Matthew expected to find Vault 15 abandoned and thus quite scary, but he had to admit he was not prepared for this. The vault was completely dark, the walls, the floors, and the ceiling covered by a layer of dirt and rust, and pretty much everything else around here plain deteriorated. There was an occasional dead mole-rat lying on the floor, probably courtesy of various looters. Despite all that, Matthew pressed on, his mind set on only one thing: getting to an elevator, down the shaft to level 10, and getting the chip. It seemed that as long as he only held his objective in mind and disregarded everything else he would make it through, though that was difficult. For example, right after entering the vault, to the right of the entrance he saw the Vault 15 medical bay, identical to Vault 13 medical bay where he spent single every day for the last couple of years. Only -this- infirmary was filthy, dark, broken, and downright scary - it looked as if Matthew was back in Vault 13 after some sort of a catastrophe, or just saw one of his worst nightmares. A thought crossed his mind that his own vault will turn into a mess just like this one if he doesn't make haste.

Using the emergency ladder in the elevator shaft Matthew started his descent to Level 10 of the vault, only to be stopped by the elevator five floors down. Going in through a small hole at the top he was ready to continue his trip through the same sort of hole in the floor of the elevator only to find, to his surprise, that this was the last floor. Puzzled, he removed his gun from the holster and listened in to the darkness of Level 5, hoping he didn't make too much noise in the elevator and thanking God the elevator door was, for some reason, half-opened and he didn't need to make any more sound. However, the sound he already made was probably enough: in the darkness of the vault he heard nails scratching against dirt-covered steel from at least three different sources. Awesome. Now he has to fight in the dark.

The scratching got more frequent and Matt reasoned his foes have picked up his scent. Leaning against the back wall of the elevator, he threw his flare out to the hallway to have some good light on the narrow gap between him and the foes and waited. Though the flare in the subterranean darkness was hard on the eyes of his foes, they still arrived a few moments later to greet Matthew pointing a gun at the gap. The first creature went down with a bullet in its ribcage and was immediately replaced by two more. Matthew fired as the two creatures squeezed through the gap at the same time guaranteeing a certain hit: one to the spine. However, he apparently underestimated the quickness of these things: before he could aim at the second one, it was already a top of him, aiming to slash at his leg. Out of pure instinct the vault dweller kicked the creature, hitting it straight in the chest and wincing from pain as the foe immediately sunk his claws into both sides of his shoe and wouldn't let go. Scared half to death, Matthew did the first thing that came to mind and stomped his foot. A crack came from the creature's groin, followed by a loud shriek and the loosening of the grip the mutant had on Matthew's foot. Another mole-rat poked its head into the elevator doorway and Matthew fired out of instinct, missing the creature with his first shot and blowing a hole in its head with the second. He looked down to the mutated rat bastard that got his foot and felt sick. The creature was crawling out of the elevator with its front legs, leaving a trail of blood behind it. It was a vile disgusting mutant that tried to bite his leg off, but Matthew still felt pity and disgust.

And with that stirring of emotion he could almost feel the wall he built around himself to keep the harsh world out collapse and the stone cold determination melt. He was alone in the dark, with a suffering creature in the big wasteland. He was in a mockery of his home, a twisted unholy reflection, and there wasn't a single person for miles around him.

Matt almost yelped when another mutant suddenly poked its head into the elevator door. He took a step back and raised his pistol (was it always so heavy?) and shot. A miss. The shots hurt his hands again and he hesitated to shoot again, giving the foe enough time to get on top of him and sink its claws just below Matt's knees. The pain was dire, making Matthew close his eyes and shoot down at the creature in panic. The loud shot resounded through the hallways and silence fell on the underground vault again. Matt stood in the elevator with his eyes closed, too afraid to open them. 'Did I shoot my foot?' he kept asking himself 'Did I shoot my foot? Does my foot hurt? God, I don't know, I hurt all over, just open your eyes and look at it, I don't want to look at it, oh God, I shot my foot, didn't I?'

He opened his eyes. The mole-rat foe lied dead between his feet, which were covered with blood. Slowly and reluctantly he checked his foot. No entry wound. Matthew let out a long sigh and collapsed in the elevator. 'Hold your shit together' he thought as he tried to push these things out of his head. This time, he tried to purposefully wake up the dark knot of determination inside him, but to no avail.

Slowly, he stood up and took out another flare as the one on the ground was already almost out. With his feet trembling he stepped into Level 5 of Vault 15, looking for a place to sit down and concentrate.

Shady Sands

2161-12-10 03:45 PM

Ian was a short man with messy brown hair, blue jeans, and a black leather jacket. He seemed the cheerful type, though his stubble and the way he held himself set him apart from the rest of the local farmers. An earring in his right ear made him look strange: too many earrings for a common townsperson, too few for a weathered mercenary or a raider. Regardless, he still looked like someone who doesn't take shit from anyone. Ian was a was a mercenary, a pretty good one in his own opinion, mostly hiring up as a caravan guard, and was intrigued when he heard of another mercenary in town, though he wasn't able to catch her before she left to the Radscorpion Caves.

Tabitha sat through the story of how he ended up in Shady Sands: apparently, he was guarding a caravan from the Hub to Shady Sands. When the caravan approached the latter town, they found it under attack by raiders, The Khans. The caravan guards came to the town's defence and Ian was shot in the leg when the raiders were retreating. While the other guards returned to the Hub, Ian decided to stay until his leg heals up, enjoying the hospitality of Shady Sands. He added he was thinking about rounding up some people and going to the caves when his leg heals as a way of saying thanks, but instead sincerely thanked Tabitha and asked if he could be of any assistance.

'Here... and here...' Ian said pointing the proper locations of the Hub and Junktown on Tabitha's map. Tabitha's first request was some coordinates of settlements south, especially those en route to the Hub. She gladly marked some other, like 'Boneyard' and 'Necropolis', which seemed somewhat cheesy to her, and concluded that the most forsaken part of her road was already behind her.

'Nice' Tabitha remarked seeing that Junktown was not only about halfway to her destination, but also in direct path between the settlements, meaning she won't have to go out of her way to resupply. Ian unfolded some more of her map and whistled: the area north of Shady Sands was ripe with markers made by several different pens.

'You've come a long way, missy.' He said. 'Why take this long journey?'

Tabitha sighed, slightly irritated and ashamed to answer the question.

'Well... Honestly, I wanna become a guard in one o'The Hub's caravans. I've got experience, been guardin' the caravans up north for years, but... Life is shit up there, Ian, it's total and complete fuckin' shit, you can't fuckin' fart without encountering cannibals, raiders, and slavers, the settlements are all small and usually disappear as fast as they appear, there ain't no economy, no decent trade, and, honestly, barely any decent people up there. I stepped on a few toes, several times. So I thought why not take a chance? Heard rumours of the Hub, that it's a thriving trading city with steady caravan routes and steady trade, much bigger payment and much safer jobs, so why not. I was sure I was gonna get a bullet in the head before I reach halfway to retirement back north.'

Ian slowly nodded a few times. 'Yeah, I think I understand. The Hub's got a decent trading business, yes. I worked for the Crimson Caravan Company, you see, they pay the most, but take the most dangerous routes. You could also work for more tame Far Go Traders or the bastards Water Merchants, but I don't advice that. Bunch of assholes.'

Tabitha smiled. 'Guess a lotta folks wanna get their hands on all that water. But I've got enough balls for Crimson. How do I sign in?'

'You simply walk into their office in the Market District and talk to Demetre. If you've got the balls and he's got the openings, you're in.'

'Oh I got balls alright.' Tabitha smiled. You don't get as far as she has without a pair. Ian smiled at the response.

'Well, good luck to you, then...' his eyes wandered to the bottle of 'Scotch' Tabitha suddenly took out of her backpack and opened 'Ah, hittin' it already? Mind if I join?'

'Not at all' she smiled and replied to Ian. For some reason she thought she'd be good with that man.

Vault 15

2161-12-10 04:18 PM

The bottom of the vault was the most fowl-stinking place in the entire shelter, and as soon as Matthew left the shaft and landed on the rusted metal floor, he could hear a lot of rats and molerats scratching around. It was only moments before he had to draw his gun and defend himself from an attacking molerat. Soon he had to face two more rats at once, and then even three. With the two bullets that were left in the twelve-bullet magazine of his pistol, Matthew shot another rodent that jumped out of a room nearby. All was well once again: after probably an hour of rolling around on an old bed in one of the rooms trying to muster the strength to stand up, Matthew somehow managed to tap into that dark knot of power, as he called it, and was back in the game. Of course, the main reason why he succeeded was because he concentrated on the fact that his destination was so close, and this nightmare almost over. It felt somewhat fragile, but he felt confident he could push through.

He started reloading his weapon but suddenly froze. The light of his flare couldn't pierce the darkness that was in the other end of the hallway, and thus he wasn't sure of what he saw at first. He thought he saw some sort of a giant shadow emerge from one of the rooms in the hallway, two red dots shining in the dark on the black shade's body. He heard the scratching of large claws against rusted metal floor as the red eyes started moving closer to him. He was dumbfounded for a moment, unable to react to this new threat, his hand frozen halfway between his gun and a new magazine of bullets. A sharp pain in his left leg woke him up from his stupor and as he let out a shout of pain, he saw a molerat down by his feet, ready to dig its claws into his flesh once again, at a point blank range. It appeared that Matthew didn't notice this new opponent in his paralysis. He jumped backwards as soon as he got his wits back together, but his back hit the cold steel of the elevator door. He quickly aimed his weapon at the molerat and firing without any proper aim, as the last resort in desperation.

Of course, at this range Matthew didn't need to be blessed with divine luck to hit and the molerat let out a strange screeching noise as its spinal cord was severed by the bullet and it fell down on the ground paralyzed and dying. Still grasping the flare firmly in his left hand, Matthew looked up to the hallway and saw the owner of the two red eyes in the darkness. The creature looked like a molerat, only that it was almost the size of a bear and had some fur, contrary to the molerats, which only had wrinkled pale skin covering them. The worst part was, it was about to make a jump, its teeth aimed to cut into the human intruder's throat. Mathew fired a single missed shot at the thing and jumped to his right, trying to avoid the beast, launching at him. However, the giant rat's left claw hit him on the side, tearing the leather jacket and cleaving several gashes on the side of Matt's abdomen. The huge spike of pain resulted in a great injection of adrenaline to his system and Matthew, now barely in control of his actions, dropped the flare he was holding and launched himself towards the nearest room in the hallway, which was only a couple of meters away. The room appeared to have once been a small storage area, with several lockers and footlockers next to the walls, and only a little bit of space between them. Matt, unable to control his panicking self, hit the far locker and fell on his knees, instantly turning around to face the beast he was sure was behind him... but didn't see it. The sight of an empty room, lit by a small flare left on the floor on the hallway acted as a tranquilizer to him and in the few seconds that followed he was able to regain control of himself, and the first thing he did was grasp his 10mm firmly with both hands and aim it at the door, his left foot and right abdomen twitching in pain. He waited for the beast to come in with hopes of finishing him, but moments flew by and he didn't see any bear-sized creature in the doorway. As soon as his breath finally settled, Matt noticed there was a small shadow on the doorstep, and deduced it was because the creature was standing between the flare and the doorway. The vault dweller felt another surge of panic when he understood the creature might be smart enough not to go for such an obvious trap, but the shadow soon started moving, the scratching of the beast's claws seemed slaw and cautious. Matt could've sworn he heard the creature sniffing the air, possibly trying to track him down. The pressure became unbearable and Matt hit one of the metal lockers with his army boot to break this deadlock between himself and the beast, though it acted as a stress relief two. He thought the creature froze. Maybe it was scared by the sound of the shot he missed to land on it? No, the smaller molerats kept charging at him even when he put a bullet in the heads of their 'comrades'.

This was unbearable. The creature seemed to have been frozen and Matthew was losing his patience, and the pain in his leg and stomach was becoming more and more of a hindrance. He saw the molerat's shadow to the left of the doorway, outside in the hall, so he got up and walked along the right wall of the room, his pistol aimed at where the creature must've been. A few deep breaths, a drop in his pace as he got near the door, the view of the hallway uncovered... Then their eyes met. The eyes of Matthew Coyle, the Vault Dweller, and the eyes of the giant rat of Vault 15. The moment the rat saw Mathew, let out a brief screech, and prepared to jump on him, the man fired three bullets the beast's way, one missing it entirely, another landing on the creature's front left claw, and the other somewhere along its chest. Mathew stopped, prepared to fall back if the beast launched at him, but the rat just shrugged in pain, letting out a few more screeches, and to that the Vault Dweller responded with two more bullets, both of which went into the creature's forehead. The creature fell to the floor dead, blood gushing out from the wound in its head. Matthew let out a sigh of relief and suddenly felt very exhausted. As pointless as it was, Matt looked into his pip-boy and saw that it was almost 10 PM. The wounds on his body were burning, but Matthew decided to ignore them for the moment.

The tenth floor of Vault 15 was identical to the same floor in his own vault so he knew the thing he came here for was just around the corner. He picked up the flare and hurried to the end of the hallway. He jumped out from around the corner and directed his flare to the left, the direction of the Control Room, where the salvation of his people was to be kept, but he only saw rocks. A lot of rocks. A cave in. The room a few meters away, which had an arrow that said 'Control Room' on the wall pointing its way was completely buried under the rubble, along with the hopes of the dwellers of Vault 13. Matthew felt like he was sinking, the determination shattering into small pieces, and even claustrophobia setting in.

Several minutes later, when he somehow mustered the strength to at least drag his feet around, he retreated to the same small room he ran away from the giant rat to and pushed a few light metal lockers on the doorway. Putting the flare down on a footlocker, he took out his first aid kit and undressed himself to take a better look at his wounds. That was all he could do for now: live on to be able to continue his search, this time without a clue where to look.

And strangely enough, that worked as well. Matthew spent the night in the dark room and woke up feeling absolutely nothing. It wasn't the cold determination like before, it was... nothing. He didn't feel happy or sad, tired or well rested. He took care while leaving Level 10 of the vault, though that was purely mechanical. He looted the already cleared Vault 15 without even thinking why he should: he could, so what fucking difference does it make? Besides, he was two 9mm clips, five stimpaks, and two fragmentation grenades richer now so who cares. His wounds were still bleeding and for a moment he wondered if he has enough bandages to last him until Shady Sands, the thought of properly treating the wound seeming very tiresome to him. Or maybe he did want to die...

The day was sunny like always and there was a slight wind that provided a bit of coolness but Matthew didn't feel it. He just dragged his feet to the west.

Shady Sands

2161-12-13 02:22 PM

Ian bet Tabitha he could drink more than her and she took him on. Aradesh was there to hear them, but he just sighed and shook his head, deciding not to say a word. The two bought some scotch and started drinking while most of the town's populace was still working.

'So,' Tabitha said putting down her bottle and looking at Ian's face to find any way to measure how drunk he is. 'What's the plan? You gonna get me drunk and... do what then?'

'Steal your entire astounding supply of dried jerky and water.' He replied, smiling. Tabitha offered a smile back.

'Oh, you can try, but if I see you I'm gonna steal something very near and dear to 'ya' she challenged. Ian laughed.

'Yeah, you gonna sneak in, fiddle around a bit...' They both burst into laughter.

'Seriously, though.' Tabitha demanded when the laughs died.

'Well, mainly I sorta felt bad watching you drink alone.'

Tabitha raised an eyebrow 'Sorta?'

'Yeah, I don't poke around in what ain't my business, but I had to ask a pretty girl out for a drink, right?'

'Well, you came around late, but I can appreciate it.'

'And I also wanted to ask you when you're leavin', because I decided I'm going to the Hub as well.'

Tabitha laughed. 'And he shows his true face at last. What, only drunk girls agree to travel with 'ya?'

'Well, I just thought I'd kill two birds with one stone. What, you'd prefer bein' sober right now?'

'Not in this place, no.'

A silence fell between them as they took another swill from their bottles.

'It ain't so bad.' Ian said when they set their bottles back on the table. 'Sure, it gets dull real quick, but at least the people are nice.'

'Really?' Tabitha retorted. 'Well, that's nice, but they're gonna get raped in the ass for it soon. They're just not wasteland material.'

'True, they could use some hair on their balls, but you got your life saved by a stranger about a week ago, and these people took care of you.'

'And I appreciate it, I really do, but that does not change the fact that they have it comin' with their attitude.'

Ian considered that point for a bit. 'Maybe.' He admitted 'Maybe they will. Or maybe, with their irrigation networks expanding, they will also expand the food trade and hire sufficient guards to protect them. Being a mean sonuvabitch isn't the only way to stay alive.'

Tabitha nodded. 'True. But who's to say those guards won't take over or extort them? Not many nice people around these days.'

'Would you do that?' Ian asked. Tabitha felt silent for a moment, confused. 'Sorry?'

'Would you extort them? Or take over?'

'Uh... no, no I wouldn't.'

'So you wouldn't, I wouldn't, the heavily armed caravans that come here don't, their employers don't, all the people who know of this place don't... Hell, looks like there _are _some nice people around.'

'Yeah.' Tabitha replied sarcastically. 'Especially south-east. What do you call those raiders, the Khans? They're not nice people. And how many nice people would come to retake the town should they take it over?'

Ian let out a faint smile. She was right. 'Maybe they'll get armed help before that happens.'

'Yeah, after a couple of harvests. Fat chance. Especially when the raiders go hungry.'

'But there IS a chance, isn't there?'

'Yeah, sorta.' They both took another swill. 'Hand to god, never thought I'd miss Rotgut, but I gotta say it's better than this shit.'

'Yeah, it has to grow on you.' Ian smiled. 'Well, future and booze of Shady Sands aside, are you willing to guide me through the dangerous wastes to The Hub?'

'Yeah.' She replied and chuckled, then her gaze lowered and turned somewhat bitter. 'Though I don't know when I'm leavin'...'

'You've been here a long time...' Ian started carefully.

'Yeah. Yeah... Yeah I have...' She kept inspecting the tabletop like there was something wrong with it.

'Probably... waiting for someone?'

Her eyes shot up. 'Whom? Waiting for whom?'

He took a swill. She did the same without breaking eye connection, despite being already quite drunk. Ian sighed.

'Matt. Are you waiting for that Matt guy?'

Tabitha laughed, very unconvincingly. 'Matt? Why would I wait for him?'

'You tell me.'

Silence fell between them.

'Yeah.' She admitted it. 'Yeah, I am waitin' for 'im, 'cause I'ma see 'im, and tell 'im... what the fuck, dude?'

'Really?'

'Really.'

'Great. Let's see it, then' he stood up. Tabitha gave him a confused look.

'He came into town at noon, I think you were busy doing nothing' he explained with a smile. Tabitha jumped up.

'Ian, it's already dark outside. You waited this long to tell me?'

'Eager to tell him off?'

Tabitha fell silent.

'Besides, Doc said he's wounded. Not badly, but he apparently didn't have the supplies to heal himself properly. He should only wake up about now.'

Tabitha glared at Ian though the fucker was obviously enjoying it.

'Yeah, let's go.'

Leaving the Common House and entering the cool of the evening they noticed a small caravan standing between the Doc's office and Aradesh's house. Seth was slowly walking towards them in the evening darkness, a deep frown on his face.

'Oi, Seth, what's happening?' Ian asked, half-whispering for some reason.

'Some Crimson Caravan types came here' he replied still keeping his eyes on the caravan 'Said they need to see Aradesh no matter what...'

Ian took a look at the caravan. The drivers and guards were unkempt, the wagons in bad shape, and the 'Creemson Caravan' logo painted on them. Taking into consideration that Crimson doesn't fly their logo on each cart...

'Seth...' Ian was sure why he whispered this time 'They aren't Crimson.'

'Shit' was Seth's brief reply as he rose his rifle and took a step towards the guests with Ian and Tabitha both readying their guns behind him.

One of the caravan drivers was knocking on Aradesh's door and Tandi opened the door.

'Oh?' The young girl smiled 'More guests? Oh, dad's out, not sure where...'

One of the caravan guards turned his heads and saw the three approach. Before they could react, the guard shouted out 'Game's over! Move out!'

The next moment, the driver on Aradesh's doorstep had Tandi on his shoulder and was diving to cover from the three fighters behind his friends. Bullets started flying.


	4. Fighting Force

A/N: I STILL don't own Fallout. Damn.

The caravan was riding slowly south with the setting sun warming the right side of the guards and drivers still in good spirits after their stay in Junktown, where booze runs free. After so much time on her own feet, the newest member of the caravan party was glad to sit down on the edge of the wagon (not very comfortable but beats walking) and open up a Pip-Boy textbook about first aid. Strange how badly things like that have deteriorated in the wasteland. If Matthew was here...

Matthew. Her healing balm. Just imagining him beside her made her feel better in this crazy world. Funny she was now the prince saving him, the princess in the steel castle, by finding that water chip.

'Daydreaming?' she turned her head to Burt, one of the guards, a plump elderly man, ferocious with a shotgun, or so they say. She offered a smile.

'Yes. It's nice not to be walking. Thank you for taking me in; I know I won't be of much use'

'That's why we're not paying you anything, Evelyn' he chuckled 'Though I would like you to keep an eye out until it's completely dark, some of the nasty ones start their night early'

'Yes, right' she powered down her Pip-Boy and took a look around. The desert was a vast expanse of nothing, her own private torturer during her trips, but now, sitting in a wagon and watching the sunset, it almost felt nice and peaceful. The slow voyage lasted until the dark and she was almost ready to go sleep at the end of a day spent shamelessly doing nothing, but learned the caravan will continue travelling after dark until they find the shelter in the ruins of some town they knew. Travelling in the dark was something she feared after leaving the vault but now, surrounded by armed guards...

They entered the ruined town well into the dark of the night and headed for a large building in the centre. Four of its five stories were completely fine and according to these caravan people it was abandoned and not well known, an exquisite hideout for the Far Go Traders...

She noticed the dark shadow approaching the wagon at incredible speeds sooner than anyone else in the caravan and let out a shriek. Without knowing what she was doing, she jumped from the edge of the wagon to its floor, among the packs of jerky, and the next second, something heavy hit the wagon, turning it over. She was thrust into the air and fell on the sand gracelessly, suffered a rain of jerky falling on her, and then the dark night got even darker: the wagon, now upside down, slammed to the ground trapping her inside, unable to move under the pile of merchandise. The next twenty minutes were a symphony of screams and gunfire. She couldn't see anything, but understood the caravan guards were losing the battle against their assailants: the gunfire started dying out and the screams increasing in quantity. Ten more minutes later, the screams started dying out too, their sources getting further and further away from her.

In no time, all was silent, and she was alone.

Shady Sands

2161-12-13 11:37 PM

'Shit!' Tabitha swore as she dived into the common house of Shady Sands right after Ian looking for some cover, bullets flying all around her and into adobe outer wall of the house. They were outnumbered about five to one at this point, and she could only hope more guns were on their way after hearing all that commotion. The raiders, for that's who those 'caravan people' probably were, were firing 10mm pistols. Not very serious hardware, but it can still kill you.

'Shoot out the window' Ian barked a command 'fuckers are probably Khans, don't know shit about shooting.'

'Awesome' Tabitha thought to herself poking her pistol out the window and into the dark. Was she losing against some amateurs?

'Can't see Tandi!' Seth shouted from his position by the doorway 'Bastard probably went through behind the buildings'

'They're retreating to the gate!' Ian shouted. Good. The guys in the guardhouse by the gate are probably waiting to greet them.

'Why the fuck are they steering their brahmin around?' Tabitha wondered aloud. The brahmin that were pulling the three wagons were suddenly turned around towards the gate by a few of the non-shooting raiders.

'They're trying to get away!' Tabitha exclaimed 'Shoot the cattle!'

Sure enough, the raiders were soon in the wagons, using their sides for cover (ineffective; do these people know the first thing about gunfights?) and the drivers took a swing at the brahmin with their cattle prods, making them take off at speed Tabitha didn't know possible. The raider fire was heavy now, the idiots at least understanding the massive cattle to be an easy target.

The second brahmin on the run went down with Ian's bullet in its eye, and the one trailing behind them wasn't quick enough to stop, crashing into the former wagon and crushing the raiders. The first wagon was nearing the gate and the assailants now shifted fire to the guard house.

'They're getting away!' Tabitha exclaimed trying to mow down the fuckers that were in the third wagon before they got their bearings.

As soon as she said that the brahmin pulling the only intact wagon burst into a cloud of flame, blood, and shrapnel. An explosion sounded through the whole settlement and the wagon hit what remained of the brahmin making most of the raiders fall out to meet the fire of four men inside the guard house.

Tabitha suddenly understood she was just standing there gawking since the explosion and continued taking down the remaining raiders. The raiders of the first wagon took cover behind what remained of it from the fire from the guard house, and, to Tabitha's audible irritation, the four idiots inside actually left the house to get on top of them, three of them going down almost immediately while the fourth hit the ground and continued to fire.

'Someone's mowing them down from inside the house!' Ian suddenly exclaimed, running out of the common house after blowing the brains of the last raider in the third wagon. Indeed, while the sole surviving man who attacked the raiders from the guard house as slowly retreating the raiders one overturned wagon away were dropping dead with shots being heard from the interior of the house behind them. The raiders soon collected themselves and started shooting back to the house without even seeing their assailant in the darkness. The shooting from inside stopped, but it was a great distraction which Ian used to get on top of the raiders. Three more shots later the battle as over.

'Where's Tandi?' Seth started shouting around.

'Tandi? Something happened to my Tandi?' Aradesh appeared out of nowhere. He, Seth, and other people started flooding into the main street to gawk at the aftermath of the recent battle.

'Fuck, people!' Tabitha started shouting so probably half the settlement could hear 'Don't go wandering around here until you know all the raiders are dead! For fuck's sake!'

Seth's jaw fell open while Aradesh froze for a few moments and gave her a long incredulous glare. Tabitha approached the wreckage of one of the wagons with her combat knife in hand, noticing Ian was already taking care of the raiders near the gate. 'You leave one alive!' Tabitha exclaimed.

'You too' was his cold answer 'just in case'

He got to work and so did Tabitha, after a few moments of admiring the change in Ian: the blabbermouth was now cold and concentrated, his lips only a thin strip on his face.

'Fucker' Tabitha swore as she kicked a pistol from the hands of a still breathing raider 'Seth!' she called for the man still standing still and awkwardly staring at her 'Book that spit-fuck'

Seth walked up to her slowly and hit the raider with the butt of the gun and dragged him out, giving Tabitha another strange look. She just let it slide and looked around.

'Yeah' she thought to herself 'wasn't fast enough to leave here before it inevitably suffered a shitstorm. Fuck. Gotta book it first chance I get'

Ian was suddenly nowhere to be found and having nothing else to do Tabitha followed Seth to where he took the prisoner. Aradesh continued his frantic running around asking for Tandi and the people Tabitha stopped in their tracks with her shouting resumed their pointless walking around the wreckage and gawking.

Shady Sands

2161-12-14 00:51 AM

The infirmary was bright and filled with people that night. Women were carrying around hot water and all sorts of doctor's tools from one end of the room to another on account of two doctors being present. Razlo was working on a particularly bad bleeding while Matthew, apparently already up and about, was trying to dislodge several bullets from a man's arm. Tabitha squinted when she entered the room and immediately noticed Ian sitting in the corner watching the doctors and the younger physician, her saviour: a scrawny, pale, scared young man. Tabitha froze. What the fuck? It's the same guy, the guy that saved her... but... she remembered him as a cold and collected person with a demanding presence not... not a pale, scrawny twenty-something spit-fuck... She turned her head to Ian who simply motioned his head towards the young physician. Tabitha approached him slowly.

'Hi' she greeted him awkwardly. His head darted up and their eyes met. Tabitha read fear in them. Fear, weakness, desperation, confusion... was he -really- the man who saved her, the man with the strong commanding voice?

'You- you're Tabitha... Hi' he slowly lowered his head and returned to work.

'And you're Matthew' she replied, kind of hoping he'd say he wasn't and the real saviour was wandering around town. He didn't.

'Hey, I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for saving me. I appreciate it'

He nodded his head at the half-assed thank you and even managed to crack a small smile at the edge of one lip. Tabitha kept looking at him incredulously. Ian suddenly stood up from his chair at the corner and approached the two.

'Matthew and I've been talking' Ian said 'and we think we should try and get this situation under control as soon as possible... did any of the prisoners speak?'

'Yeah...' Tabitha replied cautiously, already hating where this was going 'and they both said they've taken Tandi to their usual hideout as a prisoner, though they couldn't tell if it was for the money or to have Shady Sands by their balls. Fucking idiots probably don't even know themselves'

'Figures. Anyway, Matthew and I have been talking and -he-' Ian put a hand on Matthew's shoulder and the younger man winced slightly 'thinks we should head on over there and save her'

Tabitha's eyes ran between the two men. She had no wish to aid this place of highly potential fuck-ups.

'I... we'd be outnumbered... That's idiotic'

'Well, we can't do nothing, can we?' Ian retorted 'Tandi's in trouble and we owe this place a little'

'I owe them nothing, especially not my dead body!' Tabitha exclaimed. The people in the room suddenly fell quiet.

She locked her eyes with Ian for a moment.

'You do' Matthew said quietly. Both Ian and Tabitha looked at him.

'What was that?' Tabitha asked. Matthew looked up at her, obviously scared and barely holding her glare.

'I said you do. These people treated you far better than that and...' he lowered his head and looked at the man's arm, already mended 'And you owe me'

Tabitha's glare was enough to burn through steel and Ian felt like wincing just looking at it being pointed at someone else. Matthew just kept looking down.

'A-fucking-mazing' she bursted and simply stormed out, looking for something to break into pieces. The work in the infirmary resumed slowly, though there wasn't much more anyone could do and some of the women just left to share the latest development with everyone else. Ian sat down beside Matthew who was staring at a single point on the man's arm.

'You've done well' he said quietly.

'She's going to kill me' he replied even more quietly.

'I'm sorry about that. But as I've already said, if it was me or her, the people wouldn't stand beside us, I'm a wounded caravan guard and she's a cold wasteland bitch. But you... you're a hero here twice over, people will follow you, and that's very important'

'Twice over?' Matthew asked, still glaring at one spot.

'Yeah, for saving Tabitha and that grenade stunt through the window of the house'

Matthew sighed deeply and cupped his forehead. Ian looked at his face. He was in pain for some reason.

'You're doing the right thing, you know' Ian added.

'I know' he replied coldly.

Ian didn't know what else to say so he just patted him on the back and stood up.

'Get some sleep. We'll have to rally people tomorrow'

Matthew nodded and Ian slowly left. Matt removed his eyes from that single spot not without difficulty. He saw that the room was empty except for Doctor Razlo studying him intently from across the room.

'It's difficult isn't it?' Razlo asked 'Doing the right thing, I mean'

'A bit, yeah. It's all so scary'

'Well, daring people like that are really needed around here...'

'Daring?' Matthew chuckled 'More like at the wrong place at the wrong time...'

Razlo made a fake smile.

'Well, we still appreciate it'

Matthew slowly nodded 'Good to know, good to know... thanks...'

Shady Sands

2161-12-14 02:11 AM

Tabitha needed somewhere to drink, but not in the common house with all the people staring at her. Since Ian's 'roommates' from the guard house were either dead or in Razlo's, she invited herself in for a bottle of scotch and a heap of cigarettes.

'You shouldn't smoke in here' Ian said half-teasingly as he returned.

'Fuck that' Tabitha replied without looking up from the bottle of scotch she was holding in her tight grip.

'Okay...' Ian sat down by the table in front of her uncertain how to proceed. Thankfully, she spoke up first.

'Shoulda booked it the first day I got up, before the shit hit the fan. But no, I gotta stay here waitin' for him, thinkin' I should at least thank him properly. Yeah, cool, try to be nice n'decent, you gonna get -fucked- in the ass'

'You're changing your story' Ian replied.

'What?' She looked up from the bottle.

'You're changing your story. At first you said you weren't waiting for him, then you said you're waiting for him to punch his face in and now...'

'Ah, fuck it' Tabitha waved her hand dismissively 'Who the hell cares why've been waitin' for' im'

She took a large swill.

'I sorta do' Ian said.

'Sorta?'

'Why were you?'

She closed her eyes, lips pursed in irritation, and then spoke up without looking at him.

'Who the fuck cares? I waited for him, for one fucking reason or another, and now I'm bein' sent to a fucking death row!' Her eyes snapped open 'For fuck's sake, the man's a complete wuss, if he wanted me t'pay back I woulda done it by teachin' 'im to shoot or somethin' like that! But to tell me to-'

She tried to find the right words but failed, and took another big swill instead.

'I think that the reason you don't like him is because he is not that battle-hardened' Ian stated 'If he was a badass wastelander you would have no problem, right? I mean, we both understand that those fucking raiders are weak now and we could take them on without a problem with a team of decent mercs, but you don't want to follow -him-, right?'

'Can you blame me?' Tabitha retorted angry.

'But more than that...' Ian's voice was suddenly quiet 'You feel like shit because you had your ass saved by the likes of him, right?'

Tabitha's eyes went wide and her lips curled in anger. Yeah, he was definitely right.

'I understand' Ian said 'I really do, I've already noticed you don't like people like that and to owe him as much as this...'

'Yeah, okay, you got me' Tabitha interrupted 'Do you have a fucking point or not?'

Of course, if Ian admitted it was all his idea to drag her into this, the matter would be resolved. He felt a sting of guilt when he understood he's not letting that happen.

'It was Matt who tossed a grenade at that brahmin, he's the one who shot at them from inside the house. He's not incapable. He's not weak, you told me so yourself when we talked days ago. It's okay, you shouldn't feel bad owing someone like him. Besides, we'll do good by doing this. I... seriously, I don't see why you're so angry. He saved you. He's not a hardened wastelander. Get over it'

She lit a cigarette and took a long drag, her eyes burning a hole on the surface of the table.

'Exactly' she finally said 'You don't understand. You don't need to. As you said, what d'you care.'

'Fine' Ian conceded 'Fine, hate him or whatever, maybe your thoughts will start making more sense after a good night's sleep'

'Doubtless' she replied sarcastically. Ian decided to say nothing and joined her little drinking binge. Until the first light they drank in silence, Tabitha burning things with her gaze and Ian sitting silently feeling like shit for being the mastermind of this whole 'shit-storm'.

Shady Sands

2161-12-14 10:21 AM

There were things Matthew was good at and things he was bad at. For example, he was good with impartial, rational analysis and making the most reasonable decision. That is why, when the people gathered in the town square by the obelisk the next morning and he was forced to give something approximating an inspiring speech, he just went ahead, coldly analysed the situation, and made some good points about what should be done. Persuasion was one of the things Matthew was bad at.

Tabitha just rolled her eyes through the whole thing: he wasn't going anywhere with that dumb speech. The people of Shady Sands understood all he had to say all too well, but that didn't mean they would agree to go and get their asses shot because of it: they were too cowardly. For a second, Tabitha felt sorry for the man who was obviously trying to do the right thing.

Matthew finished the speech and looked at the people of the town, all unmoved. There was a long moment of silence before, much to everyone's surprise, Tabitha took two steps forward, turned around, put a hand on Matthew's shoulder and spoke to the crowd.

'He's right, y'know. I mean, for how long have you been takin' shit from those raiders? They're scum, they're complete total shit! Are you gonna be pushed around by that? Why d'you think they bolted last night after taking Tandi? Because they're afraid! They know they ain't gonna do shit against you! So I say, let's fucking do this! You want peace? Then come with us, put the thieving dogs down, and bring back peace and glory to your town!'

One thing Tabitha was good at was determining just what to say to a certain person to make them do what she wants. Making farmers of a backwater town take the fight to the raiders? Just promise glory! Provided, her ability to sugar-coat her words was terrible as hell and her reputation with the people was somewhere bordering persona non grata, but she still was able to cause a stir as people, unmoved by Matt's speech, now started whispering with each other.

'I've been around all the towns down south' Ian suddenly spoke up, taking a few steps ahead and standing next to Matthew 'and I know how the greatest communities around were set up. And let me tell you, there wasn't a successful settlement that didn't have raider problems, and not one of them would be around if they didn't stand up for themselves. They're just raiders, you show them you can fight and they flee like scared mole-rats. We've got the guns, we've got capable people to lead us...' he took a brief look at Matthew 'we can do this!'

By then the crowd was already loud and excited, the few people who owned guns and could still stand at their feet holding their holsters tightly and looking at the three companions in front of them with determination. To the humble vault physician-in-training this was something entirely new: people were rallying behind him (provided, with a -lot- of help from Ian and Tabitha), and were willing to follow him into a battle. What looked like a hopeless endeavour last night was finally starting to look good. Yeah, he can do this. They can all do this. With the extra power the people were giving him, he started feeling more and more powerful, and in return, his determination, though scarred after last night, resurfaced.

Though was something he was afraid of.

Tabitha looked at the crowd, sizing the people up. They can probably do this, but people are going to die, inevitably. Might be that Ian and her will be the only survivors. Man, are they going to feel down when their hero doesn't return. She turned her head and looked at Matthew, and almost jumped up in surprise. The shy, gentle physician was gone and instead of him a man with eyes emanating skill, intellect, and confidence was standing. A second later, he spoke up, in the same steel-clad tone like when they met for the first time in the wasteland.

'Those of you who want to do this, get ready. We meet at the gate tomorrow morning and go save Tandi and the future of this place'

Tabitha's eyes went wide and jaw agape. Suddenly, the man she dreamt of al these days while recovering was back.

Shady Sands

2161-12-14 10:52 AM

The three 'heroes of Shady Sands' returned to the guard house. Ian came in first, excited to be back in the bloody business. Matthew came in second, empowered and eager to do hat needed to be done by the proof that actually -can- do it. Tabitha came in third, totally spaced out and confused.

'Okay' Matthew said when they sat down, Tabitha opening a bottle of booze 'I haven't got any clue as to how to proceed. Ideas?'

Ian smiled. Even without this skill this man somehow has the strength and confidence to proceed. He took a brief glance at Tabitha. Yeah, they're going to have a good conversation tonight.

'Their leader is called Garl Death-hand. If we kill him and his second-in-line to the title of the leader of those pissing raiders we'll scare them away for enough time for this town to slip under the protection of the caravan outfits'

Matthew made a confused frown and Ian continued 'The caravan outfits in the Hub don't have a steady trading route with this community, but if I make my way down there and speak with my superiors I am sure I can convince them to do just that. If this happens, armed caravans will start coming here, and if these raiders try attacking Shady Sands, or better yet, the caravans themselves, they'll take it upon themselves to rid the world of the Khans, and they've got a lot of guns and skilled people'

'Right' Matthew nodded 'Any chance we can do this without an all-out assault, like a stealth operation?'

Ian smiled at the definition 'Not likely. Their base is some small dilapidated building and shitty tents around it in the wasteland plains. They're not fortified but can see people approaching from miles away. We could probably sneak in at night, get Tandi, shoot Garl, and get away, but they'd probably return to Shady Sands to take revenge. If we hit them, we have to hit them hard'

'I've still got a frag grenade. If we come at night, take Tandi to safety, bomb the house to cause confusion and weed them out...?'

'Khans are brutes, they beat their children mercilessly as an initiation to manhood. I doubt the grenade would cause a lot of confusion. However, Garl and his strongest subordinates will probably all be at the same place. If we take them out with a grenade, our work will be a lot easier'

'Right. Are you good at throwing grenades?'

'So-so'

'I'm shit. You take it and do this'

Ian smiled 'I wouldn't have told'

Matthew seemed to not have heard the remark 'If these bastards will be inside the house, once we take them out we can fortify ourselves inside the house. If these people are as dumb as you make them out to be, they'll just come rushing to us. We'll have the fortification advantage'

Ian made an almost devilish-looking look 'Yeah, that could work... though we should consider another approach if they spot us coming'

Matthew frowned 'Yeah... no ideas so far though...'

The vault dweller powered up his pip-boy and brought up the map 'Where exactly are they located?'

Ian looked at the device confused, but after a while was able to pin-point the approximate location of their base.

'Okay... I'll go help Razlo, I'm not that good at this anyway'

'Right. I'll go look at the guns people have around here, I swear they nothing of gun maintenance. You...' he looked at Tabitha who looked like she was somewhere else 'You hold the home front'

With this, the two men left Tabitha alone to think.

Shady Sands

2161-12-14 10:14 PM

Ian returned to the guard house in the evening to find Tabitha sitting on his bed, drinking. This time around she looked like she did have an idea as to where she was.

'So... anyone attacked our fortress during the day?' Ian asked teasingly as he sat down beside her.

'Just some people looking for you. They bolted as soon as they saw me, though'

'Yeah, they found me eventually. All with their shitty guns. I swear, I still see gun parts anywhere I look'

Tabitha made no reply and the two sat in silence for a few moments.

'So... you finally got your shit together after this morning?' Ian asked, and Tabitha didn't give him a killing glare much to his surprise.

'Yeah, of course, I was just a bit surprised... but all is well now'

'So you no longer think he's a fucking loser who you're sorry that saved you?'

'Somethin' like that... It's just that when we met back in the wastes he looked like this tough sonuvabitch, and then back here he as this little wimp, and today... It's complicated...'

'So... do you or do you not fancy 'im?'

Tabitha looked at him and frowned 'No. That's crazy'

'Doubt it'

Tabitha put the bottle down on the floor.

'Are you daft? Why'd you think I was waiting for you on this lice colony of a bed?'

Before he could even express his surprise, Tabitha already had her hand wrapped around Ian's neck and pressed her lips against his. Ian closed his eyes and returned the kiss, letting her tongue into his mouth.

'You're a fucking smartass' Tabitha whispered in his ear when she broke the kiss 'But god knows I want you inside me'

'Wow; that was vulgar'

'Truth's vulgar. We're all dirty and vulgar'

She pulled down the zipper on his black leather jacket.

'Don't you deny that you love that side of us'

Shady Sands

2161-12-15 02:12 PM

The next afternoon a dozen people from Shady Sands were trudging through the wasteland in a slow train with a brahmin carrying their supplies. Tabitha, a scary person to Matthew, looked somewhat happy today, and somehow managed to be pleasant enough to have short conversations with the other members of their party. Matthew was in his serious mood, surveying the wasteland and occasionally asking Ian something about wasteland survival. Later on, Matthew came to walk beside Tabitha. They walked in silence for a while until Tabitha spoke up.

'So, Matthew... Can you shoot straight?'

'No' was his cold reply.

'Oh, nice. But you -can- throw grenades, right?'

'No'

'Awesome' she said sarcastically and the two fell quiet again, until Tabitha spoke up again.

'So, what's your deal? You wanderin' the wastes lookin' for people to save?'

'No'

'You're an awesome person to talk with'

'Yes'

'So what -are- you doing out here?'

'I'm looking for something'

'And what would that be?'

'Can't say'

'Awesome'

The two fell quiet again, and Tabitha was the one to break the silence once more.

'You did great when Khans attacked Shady Sands'

'I guess.'

'That's what I'm curious about. See, you look like you can't even hold a gun properly and yet you roast these Khans and become the Hero of Shady Sands...'

'Fuck off'

Tabitha raised an eyebrow. Matthew winced at his own words. 'Sorry. It's just that...' he tried to find the right words but in the end decided to say nothing.

'Let me guess' Tabitha started with a half-smile 'This is actually the first time you killed someone and you are torn between thinking 'oh my god I killed a man' and 'I had to killed them or they would've killed me and others', right?'

'Something like that...' Matthew said absent-mindedly.

'Well, take it from this wasteland merc bitch: you did alright'

Matthew didn't look up from the sand in front of him.

'The second statement is th'right one' Tabitha continued 'It's just this sort o'world we live in'

'How did you feel the first time you killed someone?'

Tabitha gave him a confused glare. 'Sorry?'

'How did you feel the first time you killed someone?'

She gave it a moment of thought.

'I felt good. I felt... powerful. I felt like I could actually survive, like I finally saw the light, y'know, the way to survive in this hell hole. And no, I felt no compassion for the ones I killed. They were lowlifes that went 'round town killing, raping, and taking other people's stuff. Y'know, the common variety wasteland garbage'

Matthew gave a weak nod.

'I guess it doesn't make you feel better?'

'No'

'Why did you sign up for this shit, then?' she asked, her irritation over the whole situation surfacing again.

'I have to kill them or they'll kill me and others' Matthew replied coldly. Tabitha cracked a smile and patted him on the shoulder.

'It'll grown on 'ya'

Matthew gave no response. The train continued its slow movement until a few hours before sunset.

Shady Sands

2161-12-13 11:37 PM

He woke up to the sound of gunshots.

'The Hell...'

Someone, a lot of people, were firing guns right outside the building he was in. He sprung up from the bed and took a look around.

'Shady Sands... the adobe walls, it's Shady Sands...'

He ran his hand across a fresh bandage on his torso.

'That's right, I left Vault 15 and...'

Memories of his trip down the abandoned vault suddenly surged back to his head, and so did the despair of seeing the salvation of his people buried under tons of rubble. For a few moments Matthew just stood there and watched the despair envelop him. But it did not kill him. It made it distant to the world around him.

The scream of a familiar person woke Matthew up from his stupor. It was Tandi, and she was in trouble. However distant he was to things right now, he did not want to let a... friend... of his get hurt. He put on his pants as fast as he could, took his gun out of the rucksack, and was ready to go see what's happening when he spotted another object in his backpack: a frag grenade from Vault 15. After a second of consideration he picked it up, feeling that much safer with it in his hands, and peeked out of the window into the main street to find Tandi.

The quiet settlement was now in chaos. He couldn't see much in the darkness but from what he could understand, someone invaded Shady Sands, and even got as far as Aradesh's house, though the people of the town were still putting up a fight. Matthew soon saw Tandi, a skinny little figure being dragged away by some bulky man. He managed to drag her past the entry to Razlo's, where Matthew apparently was now, and, running out of patience, thrust the little girl on his shoulder and made his way out of the town via a small 'alley' which was just the gap between the west-most row of houses and the western wall. Matthew sneaked out of the house and dived into the same 'alley' as the man, who was halfway to the gate by now. The man took effort to go slowly and not be noticed and Matthew dared only to pursue him at a speed slightly higher than his.

The way to the north-western corner of Shady Sands was short and Matthew didn't dare to shoot because of his abysmal skill and because that man had Tandi covering his back. The girl was hopelessly trying to fight her captor, and it was near the gate that she noticed Matthew gaining on them both.

Unfortunately, the hulking brute that captured her wasn't a complete idiot and as soon as he felt his hostage stop fighting figured there was something wrong and turned around to see Matthew following him in plain sight.

'Motherfucker!' the raider shot his gun held in his free right hand, but, thanks to Tandi starting to fight him again, missed Matthew's head by a hair's breadth.

However stoic Matthew was as he left Razlo's infirmary, he was not rendered immune to this situation, and as soon as he felt he bullet fly by his head so closely, he panicked. The damsel i distress was immediately forgotten as Matthew dove into a gap between two houses, and then through a curtain-door inside some house.

For a couple of minutes he lay still on the floor in the darkness of someone else's house, waiting for the hulking figure to come back and paint the walls with his brain. The man did not return and Matthew slowly regained his calm. There were still shots being fired by the infirmary and Aradesh's and carefully Matthew sneaked to the window to the main street to take a look at the situation, the idea of pursuing the man who got Tandi now completely out of his mind.

With his eyes now accustomed to darkness Matthew could make out the faint silhouettes of the raiders, firing at some houses. He could also make out the brahmin and the wagons they pulled being turned around and raiders getting into them.

'They can't see me now. I can do this. I can stop them' the cold thoughts ran through Matthew's head as he slowly looked down to the fist-sized object in his hand. Having left the holster at the infirmary, Matthew put his gun on the ground and wrapped his finger around the ring, not sure if he knew how to use it properly. Three wagon-pulling brahmin were approaching him and he was here, safe in the darkness behind walls, and ready to bow them all to hell. Mathew wasn't sure if he made a small smile just then or not.

The wagons were about to approach the house and Matthew could see the figures inside the wagon much more clearly in the light of the few street-lamp torches. He saw people, human beings in the wagon. He saw human beings exploding into a shower of body parts in his mind.

'For god's sake, man, just throw it!'

'No, I can't, I can't blow them all up, I can't...'

'You -so- fucking can!'

Before he knew it, his hand pulled the ring out of the grenade.

'Shit, shit!' Matthew brought his right hand back ready to throw the grenade, and took aim at his target. The raiders, the -humans- he was aiming at, started exploding in his head again.

'I can't do this, can I?' He thought bitterly as he threw the explosive, though with trajectory altered mostly by his conscious desire.

The brahmin pulling the wagon exploded like he thought the raiders would, and the wagon collapsed throwing the assailants into the dirt. This time, Matthew was sure he cracked a smile. The assailants were robbed of their way out and were now rolling around in the dirt.

'I did it. I showed them! I am powerful! I am so fucking powerful!'

Matthew heard more shots being fired from the guard house across the street, and saw the raiders crawling around, trying to take cover, and falling in the dirt dead in puddles of their own blood. It looked... glorious. It looked like justice. It was completely exhilarating.

He grabbed his gun from the floor and, grinning like a madman, took aim at the head of one of the unsuspecting raiders.

'Wait, that's no different than blowing them all up!'

His trigger finger froze.

'They took Tandi' Matthew's mind stated coldly as a justification and he started shooting. Because of his shitty aim the first three bullets hit the sand, but the fourth got one of the raiders in the shoulder. The way the shoulder thrust forward from the impact, the way the raider started screaming and dropped his gun, the way Matthew's next bullet got him in the lower back - it was all magical. He didn't know what it felt like to take drugs, but this must've been just like the high people take them for. He didn't stop. The next bullet missed a raider narrowly, and his target turned around to see who was shooting at him. Matthew pulled the trigger and the back of the raider's head exploded into a mist of bone fragments and brain matter. Matthew made a short sharp laugh. He was high. He was powerful. He was -god-.

A bullet from one of the raiders hit the adobe windowsill, sending a small cloud of dust at Matt's face, blinding him. A second later, he felt a bullet flying by him and narrowly missing his head, instead hitting some sort of a vase behind him and shattering it.

'Oh god'

And just like that, the ride was over. Matt's gun dropped to the ground and his knees suddenly lost strength, saving him from another bullet that would've hit him in the shoulder.

Matthew crashed to the ground trembling, bullets flying over his head through the window and making a mess out of the back wall. His hands were trembling and his whole body was numb, sending him into panic as he couldn't tell if he was shot or not.

'Shit, fuck, shit...'

The fire continued for some time, but the raiders then focused towards new targets, targets they failed to eliminate. Soon, it was all quiet, and Matthew kept lying down on the floor, trying to make any sense of the emotional roller-coaster he just went through.


	5. Hero

A/N: Still ain't got no rights to Fallout...

'Can I do it?'

His time was running out: the raiders were about to get their wits together. They had to burst into a thin red paste -right now-.

He wavered.

'I can't do it, can I?' the thought was almost comforting.

The 'Shady Sands Army', as they came to call themselves, broke camp right after sunset and approached the raider camp from the north. The camp was located in a plain of sand and had no fortifications whatsoever. Not that anyone would come poking in this relatively barren stretch of the wastes. The Khan Camp was basically a set of tents placed around a huge campfire, with some sort of a fighting pit on the eastern side and a 'Command Centre' to the north. The command centre was built entirely from junk and basically the only way it was different from the tents was its size. The raiders have apparently been binge drinking since Tandi's abduction for the entire camp was filled with loud figures shambling about and looking for a fight. The fact made it that much easier for them to sneak into the raider 'Command Centre' under the cover of the night. Matthew, of course, was forced by Ian to take the lead: the Hero of Shady Sands had to be in the front of this assault.

Ian peeked into the inside of the building while Tabitha drew her lock-picks and started her work on the door. The room beneath was built as a corridor on the east side and a set of cages on the west. A small candle burned on a table by the wall, barely illuminating the only person in the room: a frail silhouette in the middle cage, lying on her side with knees to her chest. There were two more doors leading from the room. One was, as Ian learnt, to an empty dark room, probably the Raider Chief's bedroom, and the other to some sort of a main room Ian couldn't peek into as its windows faced the rest of the camp.

'Got it' Tabitha reported silently as she did her best to open up the door without making much noise and motioned Matthew to come in first. He sighed and went in.

It took maybe an hour while sneaking up to the camp at night for Matthew to collect himself and prepare for this. He tried to call up the cold determination that aided him between Vault 13 and Vault 15, but it was no longer there. Instead there was apathy, almost complete but for his fear of himself, born the night the Khans attacked Shady Sands.

The vault dweller, of course, had to be the person to take the cage keys from the small table, unlock the cage, wake Tandi up, and silence her as the young girl was about to burst the moment she opened her eyes and saw him. At least he didn't have to carry her out in her arms: one of the younger farmer-troopers led her out the back door into the wasteland to wait for this to end, one way or another.

Taking care of the three people in the main room (uncharacteristically sober for raiders) was a simple matter of Matthew kicking in the half-opened door and taking cover, and Ian sweeping the room with a nice burst from his 10mm SMG. Ian abandoned the initial plan to use a grenade to do this seeing as how an explosion in this pathetic shack might just bring it down on their heads. Instead he moved into the room, smashed the small car battery-powered lamp giving them the protection of darkness, and moved by the window in the far edge of the room. The rest of the attackers swiftly took their position by the windows with Tabitha by the window in the opposite side of the room from Ian and Matthew in the middle, now holding the grenade. Again, he had to put up a show for the residents of Shady Sands, and he had to do it quick as the raiders weren't exactly deaf to the salve of the automatic weapon.

'Can I do it?'

He thought back to the events in Shady Sands on the night of the attack.

'I can't do it, can I?'

He knew that if he concentrated enough he could bring himself to throw the grenade and tear them apart. Then he would get high on it and their deaths would mean nothing to him. Once he knew he was strong enough to kill people he could feel mighty enough to metaphorically spit in the face of god, but once he was reminded of his own mortality he would be reduced into a trembling snivelling mess. He did not want to be that sort of person.

'To be a good person or to die?' Matthew asked himself bitterly. Some of the raiders were already approaching them cautiously while the most of them were too drunk to care, thinking that the shots were probably just their leader's way of unwinding: he was in a bitchy mood for losing so many warriors while attacking Shady Sands.

'I don't want to die' Matthew thought as he forced an angry frown. Maybe he could bring himself to be a mad, merciless, killer 'I don't want to die... I don't want to die... I -don't- want to die'

He closed his eyes, pulled out the ring, and threw the grenade.

The thing exploded right next to the large fire pit among the tents, causing shock to the raiders.

'Fire!' Ian commanded and the scared villagers poked their guns out through the window and started shooting.

Matthew just stood there as the fight broke out, his hand slowly descending by his side. 'Did I hit? Did I blow someone's arm off? Who did I kill? God, did I just kill someone?'

A throwing knife flew by inches from his face and made him snap out of his stupor. He kneeled down on the floor and closed his eyes. 'I took no pleasure in it, god, I didn't take any pleasure in it...'

'You hurt?' Some farmer next to him asked. He looked the man in the eye. The man was concerned, almost scared. Of course, if the 'Hero of Shady Sands' goes down, so does the morale and everyone's done for.

'No' Matthew shook his head and took his 10mm pistol out of its holster. 'Let's give 'em hell' he said as confidently as he could and poked his head out. There were maybe half a dozen raiders already down for the count, and three of them, all still breathing, were kissing the ground thanks to Matthew's grenade.

'Shoot, god damn it, shoot!' he repeated to himself. He took aim: a drunk raider girl, maybe seventeen years old, carrying a baseball bat to the fire-fight. No...

He switched targets: an older male raider pointing a worn-looking rifle to one of the windows. Yes, he can do it... just do it, god damn it...

Matthew fired half a second after the raider did. The raider went down with a bullet just below his neck, but his shot was a hit as well: the bullet hit the plywood below the window, went through it like a hot knife through butter, and into the chest of one of the armed farmers. Shit...

'Got it!' Ian shouted as he dove down to the ground and approached the man. Matthew lingered for a second. Ian can't possibly be a good doctor, wouldn't it be more reasonable for Matthew to take a look? Oh, right, he must keep firing so the rest of them would keep firing. Biting down on the inside of his lip Matthew took aim again, realising only then that Ian was probably not there to treat the man, but rather to announce his death.

He felt the metallic flavour of blood in his mouth as he aimed at another raider: a woman of undeterminable age, a pistol in her hand trying to hit something in the haze of alcohol. Bang. Bang. Bang. The third bullet met the woman's right leg and she fell down. The fourth met her gut as Matthew looked for another target. A young raider, maybe nineteen, male, a sawed-off in his hand. Bang. The bullet missed his head by an inch and he fell down on his knees, gun on the ground, his hands covering his head, panicked. Matthew knew the feeling all too well. The vault dweller's bullet went right through his head and the young raider fell on the ground, dead as a rock. For a split second, the young physician felt compassion and... envy for the Khan. Was it that deep down he also wanted...

The next Khan got most of the remaining bullets in the magazine fired in quick succession. The raider was only armed with spiked knuckles but Matthew no longer cared about stuff like that. Another Shady Sands warrior went down to Matthew's left, and then another. The Khans got together behind the tents and were now approaching the house all at once, some trying to shoot the assailants down through the 'walls', some just trying to run into the house and kill them with one or another melee weapon in their possession before being shot. The giant tidal wave of raiders was about to wash on them.

Tabitha was firing her shotgun as fast as she could and Ian's submachinegun was going through clips like a thirsty brahmin goes through water. A bullet went through the plywood just beside Matthew and hit the floor somewhere behind him. For a moment, the Vault Dweller was about to bolt in panic but by some miracle he managed to stay in place and keep firing.

'Die, die, god damn it, die!'

Ian stepped back from the window and gave the raiders, already almost on top of him, a quick salve from his gun. Tabitha was reloading her shotgun while gritting her teeth. The raiders were aiming for the door between Matthew and Ian.

Before he knew it, Ian and another fighter were right next to Matthew motioning him to fall back the cells. The eight remaining troops fell back to the next room leaving six of their dead comrades behind. The raiders were going in through the door just to meet Tabitha's shotgun. Matthew was kneeling and shooting at them while Ian was firing from over his head, the sound of the gun not even being registered in the vault dweller's mind. The rest of the warriors were firing at the last of the approaching raiders through the window.

'I'm out!' Matthew exclaimed. Tabitha kneeled beside him and dropped her Desert Eagle beside him while reloading her shotgun. Matthew picked up the gun. It was heavier and, as he found out after the first shot, a lot more powerful. Four more ammo clips soon fell beside him as Tabitha stood back up and continued firing.

'Hold on!' Ian exclaimed 'Not a lot o'them left! Matthew, aim at the ones with firearms, Tabitha, greet the rest o'them with your gun'

The floor of the main room was red with blood, Tabitha's shotgun tearing off entire limbs at a range this short. Any other time, Matthew would have bolted at the gruesome sight, but right now he was damn certain he would not move anywhere from his position in the doorway to the cage room until this ended. It took him a few seconds to reload and keep firing, his hands numb from all the gun trotting, but the .44 Magnum made him feel more confident due to its strength. Slowly, the stream of raiders started getting weaker and weaker until finally Tabitha took a few steps ahead to fight off any remaining raiders.

'Cover her' Ian told Matthew silently as he started walking on her left with Ian walking on her right. There was still maybe half a dozen raiders left alive in the camp, all in disarray, and Matthew shot the only one still holding a firearm without even flinching. Soon the camp was quiet and Matthew let a sigh of relief escape his lips. The surviving attackers stood at the door of the main house and looked over the battle field, several dozen dead raiders lying on the ground. Matthew's vision was blurry, probably from the exhaustion, and he felt completely empty inside. Once the physical threat was gone, he started feeling completely apathetic at the whole situation: he wasn't afraid, he wasn't particularly happy he survived or miserable for killing these people.

'Check tents, killing shots' Ian whispered in the vault dweller's ear. The notion went unnoticed by the rest of the survivors, surveying the death they caused. Matthew turned around and looked at all of them. The farmers were relieved, their hands shaking somewhat after the battle and the expression of disgust occasionally creeping through their faces. Ian looked quite at ease at the outcome. Tabitha remained expressionless.

'I think...' Matthew started and saw all of the eyes turn to him. Despite his shell of apathy, he suddenly felt something similar to disgust at the entire 'Hero of Shady Sands' act 'We should... we should check out the tents... You guys make sure these... the Khans we... brought down are... dead... and Tabitha, Ian and I will... go through the tents...'

'Finders keepers or is the loot going to a common fund?' Tabitha asked.

'Common fund' Matthew replied absent-mindedly. Tabitha went right ahead and into a tent and the rest of them slowly took up the task of killing those suffering the pain they caused. The battle was over, and Matthew was already questioning if it was all really worth it as he started strolling down towards one of the tents.

Khan Camp

2161-12-16 03:34 AM

Many of the bullets the inept people of Shady Sands, and Matthew, fired at the raiders instead hit the tents which were as good a bullet shield as paper. A young man, maybe seventeen years old, was in one of the tents that were hit by these bullets. When Matthew entered the tent, he was bleeding through the upper right leg, his knuckles white from holding the combat knife pointed at the door. By some miracle he had enough knowledge to wrap his leg above the wound tightly with a piece of cloth and was now sitting on a makeshift bed waiting for his executioner to come. Admittedly, the pale figure of the vault dweller was not what he was expecting.

'Fuck off or I'll cut you!' the raider threatened through gritted teeth. Matthew, his face devoid of any expression, froze for a second, and then went inside the tent seemingly ignorant of the knife in the raider's hand.

'Come to finish me, you farmer son of a bitch?' the young man continued his verbal attack, not exactly backed up by his face pale because of blood loss and teeth gritted because of the pain. Matthew stood in front of the Khan but outside his reach, his Desert Eagle pointing to the ground, and gave the raider a long expressionless stare.

'Yeah' he finally replied calmly 'I have' and he raised the gun at the young man's forehead.

'So you gonna shoot a defenceless boy in the head?'

'A defenceless boy? Since when, the last time you raped and shot somebody?'

'A real man would fight me one on one in the arena' the boy attempted 'No guns, just bare knuckles and honour. But you're probably too much of a fucking pussy to do that'

'Like I would give -you- an honourable death, even if our understandings of honour were at least similar' Matthew replied through gritted teeth, barely holding back the rage caused not by the insult but by the fact that the murderous bastard was trying to demand human rights after what he's undoubtedly done to who knows how many people.

'You kill innocent people and live off of things stolen from others. You're just a fucking parasite who's incapable of creating anything, a fucking cancer on the face of the Earth. You deserve far less than a quick death I'm about to give you'

The young raider squeezed the knife in his hand even harder 'And I suppose you're a righteous fucking hammer to do this?'

Matthew cracked a small smile at the idea 'Yeah, I -am- a righteous fucking hammer, you worthless murdering freak'

Bang!

The young Khan dropped the knife from his hand and collapsed on the bed with a bullet hole in his forehead.

Matthew lowered his gun, hands still shaking from pure rage. He closed his eyes and tried to collect himself, his conscience already trying to sting him for murdering someone in such a cold-blooded fashion: riding the combat high and even proclaiming himself a 'righteous fucking hammer'. The vault dweller didn't feel the stings; it was like his conscience was a person buried alive in a coffin, the thrashing and screaming not being heard by anyone.

'Righteous fucking hammer!' Tabitha's voice startled Matthew. He opened his eyes and saw her coming in to the tent, grinning like he never thought she could.

The woman looked at the dead youth without any interest and then looked Matthew straight in the eye 'I guess you can be a mean sonuvabitch if you really want to' she punched him playfully on the shoulder.

Why was that woman so happy? Why was that woman so... warm towards him? What's going on?

'You have to kill 'em or they'll kill you and others' Tabitha repeated his words from only half a day earlier 'You did okay, not just -by- killing them but also -killing- them. You're pretty inexperienced but I think with some getting used to a rifle you could use those steady hands of yours quite effectively'

'I...' Matthew stuttered, not being able to follow Tabitha's train of thought 'Thanks but... I'm not... signing up to be... a merc'

Tabitha rolled her eyes feigning frustration but was still happy for some reason. In the corner of his mind he remembered her standing completely indifferent at the site of this night's murder. Why the sudden difference?

'Everyone -has- to be a merc these days just to get from one place to the next. Seriously, I have no idea how you got to Shady Sands from... wherever it is you're from' Tabitha went on, but Matthew barely heard her. Somehow her cheerful mood rubbed him the wrong way, maybe because he wasn't used to seeing her so... lively. He suddenly remembered Aradesh's words when he woke up in Shady Sands for the first time, 'She is a woman of the wasteland, she only cares about herself and believes only in herself'. Could it be that now that he's shown he can be a badass killer she finally stopped hating him? That's messed up...

'Hello?' Tabitha waves her hand in front of Matthew's face and the young man realised he wasn't paying any attention to her for the last minute.

'Yeah?'

'I said we need to get on with this. I'm gonna check the shelves and trunks and stuff, you see if that guy's got anythin' good, like drugs and stuff' she said motioning at the dead young raider.

Matthew nodded and started checking the young man's pockets reluctantly 'I'm not sure I like the idea of us trafficking drugs after this...'

'Why not?' Tabitha shrugged checking a trunk full of rags 'Those drugs're usually sold back to one raider gang or another. We get their caps, they get high and crazy makin' 'em easier to put down. I love th' whole idea'

Tandi and the supply brahmin soon rode into the Khan encampment. Ian managed to salvage two wagons from the camp, and used one to store loot and the other to store dead bodies. Matthew rode in the front of the caravan, in the loot wagon along with Tandi who gave him a detailed two-hour-long description of what it was like being a Khan prisoner. When the day was through, the sun set, the moon rose, and the 'Shady Sands Army' was only a couple of miles from their home, Matthew cleared a corner of the wagon where Tandi could curl up and fall asleep, and, his ears enjoying a break from all the talking, took a moment to enjoy the nocturnal wasteland. Horrible things happened to him these last two days, and he wasn't even sure who he was anymore, the uglier sides of his personality that he didn't even know of surfacing in the extreme situations he had faced. But despite it all, that moment, under the stars in the wagon, he felt calm and safe: only a grain of sand on the face of the earth when compared to stars, lonely going back home... or what was home at the moment.

That was probably the first time Matthew saw that life on the outside world can bring new emotional experiences that are not completely depressing.

Shady Sands

2161-12-17 03:33 PM

'Okay, exhale slowly and squeeze the trigger softly, don't jerk it'

Matthew aimed his shot and did just that. The rifle fired with a loud bang and sent a pain through Matthew's arm and a .223 FMJ to a bottle against the wall, shattering it. The vault dweller sighed, it will take some time getting used to a gun this powerful.

Ian motioned him to take a few more shots in their improvised firing range behind the guard house. Tabitha was sitting down on a bench behind them, her back to the guard house wall and her lips constantly wet with 'scotch'.

Matthew shot down five more bottles with seven shots.

'Not bad' Ian commented as the vault dweller pointed down his Hunting Rifle and rubbed his aching arms 'There two or three more Hunting Rifles in the Khan Camp, I can use the parts to fix this one... seriously, if you took off the electrical tape from that gun it'd fall apart'

'Electric tape was a very highly-demanded item back north' Tabitha interjected 'You'd be surprised how many things're held by electric tape these days'

'I know, I was a caravan guard too' Ian replied 'If you're gonna go trade with the raiders, bring bullets, tape, and Wonderglue'

'I still don't understand how you can trade with them' Matthew opined.

'Simple' Ian replied with a smile 'Raider equipment is shit. You go in, offer some stuff that'll ensure their gear stays shitty, take their caps, and spend them in a decent town, knowing that with the same amount of caps a decent settlement will repair a gun twice as good as in a raider camp. Besides, you need to make a living, right?'

'I suppose' Matthew conceded slinging the rifle of his back 'Damn shooting that gun hurts my hands'

'The raiders didn't have many .223 bullets' Ian said 'But when we give you your whole share you'll be able to buy some more. Which reminds me, where are you headed next?'

Matthew didn't reply immediately. That's right, in the heat of this war with Khans he forgot about his quest. His guts churned slightly when he remembered he was still on a schedule and the consequences of being late aren't something he could live with. His guts churned a second time when he realised he's got no clue as to where to look next. He could always ask Ian or Tabitha, but... could they be trusted? Of course, he doesn't really have to reveal everything right here and now.

'I'm looking for a piece of equipment' Matthew said finally 'A water purification system controller chip. I... don't really know where to look though'

'Can't say I've heard of such thing' Ian said puzzled 'Did you look in the Hub?'

'...No'

'Well, Tabitha and I are heading that way, and as they say, if it ain't in the Hub it ain't anywhere. You can join us if you want, an extra gun can't hurt'

Matthew shifted his gaze to Tabitha who was finishing her scotch. 'If it's okay with you both...'

'You lookin' for a water purification chip?' Tabitha asked, woozy 'In that case we should prolly hurry 'cause if that's what's wrong with your vault you're prolly on a time limit'

'Vault?' Ian and Matthew asked at once. Tabitha gave a short loud laugh.

'Hey, if we're gonna be partners then you should at least be honest, vault boy'

Ian gave Matthew an amused look 'Vault dweller? That explains a lot'

'How did you know?' Matthew ignored the slight insult.

'Doesn't take a genius to guess' Tabitha replied 'You look nice, you 're totally clueless, a piss-poor shot, and you got your vault computer bracelet' she explained pointing at his Pip-Boy. Matthew instinctively put his hand on it.

'You know what it is?'

'No' Tabitha replied and laughed 'Ain't got a clue. I was once in a place called Vault City up north. All the tight-ass fuckers there got a computer bracelet on their arms. I barely took notice of it and didn't ask any questions. Guess I'm a dumb bitch cause I saw like a million o'those in the city and only took notice o'yours when we were almost at the raider camp'

Matthew was lost for words. So she'd known he was a vault dweller for the last day or so. Was that why she looked so amused in that tent? Was she enjoying the sight of a vault dweller going berserk?

'So... Do you really have a time limit?' Ian asked.

'Yeah... If I don't get it in four months... I have to get it in four months. That... That place you mentioned, Vault City? Maybe I should go there, they'd have the chip for sure'

'Forget it' Tabitha replied sternly 'One, it's -very- fuckin' far away and I ain't goin' back there, two, it's a dangerous journey 'cause th'north's filled with raiders, and three, those fucking pussies'll probably tell you to beat it 'cause they'd rather suck on each others' assholes than share or sell any o'their precious vaultie tech'

Matthew gave Ian a questioning look and the caravan guard shrugged 'North's out of my jurisdiction; if she says it ain't worth it I believe her. 'Sides, Shady's considered the northern edge of the civilized lands, and that speaks volumes about the north without even having to ask Betty'

'Tabitha' she corrected him 'And I can sure's hell testify that north of here is a giant shithole'

'South it is then...' Matthew said without conviction.

'Cheer up, vault boy' Ian punched Matt in the shoulder playfully 'Now that you're with the biggest badasses out there you're sure to succeed.

'Thanks' the vault dweller said 'And I'm Matthew by the way. -This-,' he said pointing at a picture on the corner of his Pip-boy 'is a vault boy'

Shady Sands

2161-12-17 09:03 PM

'So if you look them in the eye they'll hypnotise you and drink you blood. And shooting at them only pisses them off...'

'Language!' Aradesh scolded his daughter.

'Sorry dad. So, shooting at them only... makes them angry. There's no way you can beat a Death Claw if you meet one. They call it The Ghost of California' Tandi bulged her eyes 'Scary stuff, huh?'

'Yeah' Matthew replied with a courtesy smile. When they found out that he, Ian, and Tabitha are leaving the next morning Tandi, Aradesh, and Seth insisted they give the Hero of Shady Sands a proper farewell dinner, so he got stuck in the common room with half of the town while Ian and Tabitha stayed in the guard house, probably drinking they organs away.

'Here's to the Hero!' someone called out a cheer and the whole crowded common house rose their glasses. The humble cook of the common house was running around almost in a panic in order to feed all the people that suddenly flocked in, all of them shouting in unison that the occasion required the best whisky brought from Junktown and the softest brahmin steaks the poor woman could cook up. Matthew was rather enjoying this 'dinner' now that he had half a dozen shots of whisky in him, his cheeks blossoming and the ills of the last few days departing from his conscious mind.

'Tell us again how you blew those raider scum to their heathen hell!' someone shouted.

'It was superb!' one of the people who were in the 'Army' replied 'The Hero thrust the grenade right in the middle of their swarm and it went BANG with arms and legs flying all around!'

Aradesh winced. 'Tandi, I think it is time you went to bed'

'But daaad!' Tandi tried to plead but had to give up and left the common house after giving Matthew a long hug and a heartfelt thank you.

'I must admit that the demise of these Khans are good news' Aradesh said 'But I admit I've never heard any of my people talk about murder that way and it unsettles me'

Matthew was two shots too drunk to really share Aradesh's concerned so he just shrugged and took another shot 'They're excited now, but they'll calm down'

'We'll have to bury some of us tomorrow' Aradesh said, suddenly sullen 'Maybe that'll remind them how precious life is. It's a shame how fast people forget what an awful thing it is to take someone else's life when they've got some of booze in them'

Matthew's hand locked tightly around his shot glass. That exact thought was something that didn't allow Matthew to get a moment's rest since Khans kidnapped Tandi.

'They'll calm down. They need to deal with it some way' the vault dweller said quietly.

'Yes, yes, yes, but I do hope they won't just dismiss the fact that they went on killing spree by saying they had no other choice. Something like taking a life must -never- be taken lightly'

Matthew thought about taking another shot. Though his conscience stung him for it, he decided to drown Aradesh's inappropriately mean words regarding saving Tandi with some more whisky. He understood he was running away from his problems, but he soothed himself with promises to solve this problem little by little and for the time being do his best to prevent it from coming down on him with full force.

'How do -you- look at this sort of thing?' Aradesh asked unexpectedly.

Matthew thought about it and decided to go with the truth 'It unsettles me. I... I'm trying to handle it... but this problem is very big and... I agree with you. It shouldn't b taken lightly. I'll do my best not to'

Aradesh frowned and gave the bottle of whisky by Matt's hand a hateful glare 'Be careful' he cautioned 'Being around companions like yours is bound to bring disbalance to your mind'

'You mean Ian and Tabitha?'

'Ian not so much, but Tabitha - yes, she is a callous woman, that one. I've spoken with Ian and he said he's never... shot a man that didn't try to shoot him, and he subdues his foes without killing them when he can. I am not ignorant, I know that you must live by your gun out there if you want to live at all... but I simply don't like where this is heading'

Though Matthew was reluctant to antagonize Tabitha for some reason, he had to agree with Aradesh. The only actions that she seems to respond positively to seem to all involve blood and the greatest problem she had with Matthew was that he wasn't a badass wasteland killer. But still... to antagonize her... he couldn't bring himself to do so. She seemed scary and unpleasant at times, but overall she was a good, lovable person.

...

No, he didn't just think of that!

...

He did think of that, didn't he? Shit. Why would he ever consider Tabitha lovable? Maybe because she was a pretty woman with a strong character who always speaks her thoughts?

...

No, he didn't just think that!

He did think that, didn't he? Shit. That whisky bottle's going down tonight.

Aradesh noticed his sudden display of affection for whisky and excused himself. Wishing Matt the best of luck he went home and left the Hero of Shady Sands alone in the midst of his worshippers.

The whole situation was twisted.

With a new bottle in his hands Matthew somehow managed to escape the common house and took his drinking to he brahmin pens, the stink extinguished by the alcohol in his blood.

One thing that Matthew realised and was determined to scold himself for when he got sober was the fact that among all the issues he had right now his mission was the abandoned one at the bottom.

Shady Sands

2161-12-17 11:27 PM

'I thought you'd be more surprised to know he's from a vault' Tabitha said stretching on the bed. She and Ian lied naked on his bed in the guard house, with whisky bottles littering the floor.

'I ain't the one for the drama, y'know' he replied with a smile 'I just chill and be a smartass to everyone'

Tabitha chuckled lazily.

'Speakin' of smartass' Ian continued 'You and Matthew seem to be alright now. You got over your drama?'

'Sorta' she replied with her eyes closed, ready to drift off to Dreamland 'When I realised he was a vaultie I couldn't stay angry with 'im anymore. The kid jut lacks direction, that's all'

Ian gave her a smile that went unnoticed and lied in silence enjoying that the two people have reconciled. After talking Matt into conscripting Tabitha to fight the Khans and thus creating tension between the two Ian felt obliged to smooth things out between them, and it seems things worked out even without his interference.

'I was real good back north' Tabitha suddenly started 'So good that all the others looked up to me, especially the new kids. That's why I was the one who had to train them. And those new recruits... they were too trigger happy because of the way they grew up and when I started training them they became even more cocky, probably thought I was gonna blow them for each headshot. Working with 'm was a pain in the ass. And Matt... he's not that trigger-happy, he's smart, and he listens. I can work with that'

'Gonna make him into a wasteland badass?' Ian smiled 'He's a vaultie. If you're gonna do that remember that he's new to killin' and might have some problems with you encouraging it'

'Doesn't matter. He'll learn soon enough that he must either kill or be killed out here'

'I agree. But still, don't rush 'im'

'Hmmm...' Tabitha was already asleep.

Ian carefully climbed out of the bed, put his boxers on, and went outside for a smoke. So his worries were a thing of the past: the slate is clean, these two aren't going to slit each other's throats... who knew the matter would be resolved so easily?

'Matt?'

The figure shambling towards the guard house was indeed Matthew, an empty bottle of whisky in his hand and vomit on his shirt.

'Matt, you're totally wasted!' Ian laughed as he dropped his cigarette on the sand and helped the young man into the house. 'Didn't anyone from the party give you a hand with returning here, or were you all totally blissfully drunk?'

'Ditched 'em' Matthew said, barely articulating words 'I don't... want to be... their fucking hero... called... fucking... oh...' he saw Tabitha naked on the bed 'You fucking Betty, then? I should go 'n give you guys...' Matthew removed Ian's hand from his shoulder and tried to walk away, but collapsed on the floor a second later 'Shit!'

'Look who's here!' Tabitha laughed as she opened an eye and saw Matt standing up from the ground 'Thirsty, much?'

'Yeah' he replied looking at all the empty bottles on the floor 'You're out though'

'Come on, you happy drunk' Ian pushed Matt into a bed 'You get some sleep, the booze is gone'

'Mmm, yeah, I should do that' he put his hand on the pillow and passed out. Ian turned around and found Tabitha grinning, both her eyes open.

'Charming' she laughed 'Come on now, love, we're setting off early t'morrow'

Ian gave her a grin back 'I obey, my mistress'


	6. Wastelander

A/N: I don't own Fallout. Damn.

Wasteland

2161-12-22 07:58 PM

Leaving Shady Sands felt good. Matthew thought it was a bit strange that he felt his way, but he couldn't help it. The whole hero worshipping thing just got to him, and even though the town itself was very nice, Matthew left it a bit eagerly. He was wearing his patched black leather shirt and pants, while Ian bore his leather armour and Tabitha wore her trench-coat, as usual. They all had back-packs with weight distributed equally throughout them. All in all, Matthew's sour mood got somewhat better as they left, as if the mean, determined killer or the apathetic survivalist inside of him never existed.

The vaultie was relieved that while travelling south he found something he was good at: spotting enemies. Logic dictates that the vault dweller should be the last person to see a threat approaching in the wasteland, but for some reason ever since day one he was the first one to shout 'incoming!' when some desert critter decided to have human for lunch. He also learned that he was absolutely terrified of the giant scorpions of the wasteland, called radscorpions.

'Hey, clean up that shit in your pants!' Tabitha scolded him jokingly when the three of them put down a radscorpion and Matthew was obviously too frightened to even come close to the dead creature 'Remember, you rescued this damsel in distress from radscorpions up near Shady!'

If the vault dweller was somewhat frightened by distances between the vaults and Shady Sands alone he was damn sure he wouldn't have made it to Junktown alone. When Ian declared on the fourth day of the journey that they were halfway there Matthew felt smaller and more incompetent than ever.

Despite the fatigue the inexperienced vault dweller suffered, the journey was a relatively pleasant one. Ian had decided he'd give him a crash course of the wasteland life and used every chance to do so, so he was stuck making fires, preparing meals, and digging for water. It seemed somewhat enjoyable, and Matthew was a bit concerned about his sanity when he realised he felt that way. Tabitha, now less of a bitch to him, had decided she'd give him a crash course of shooting. She claimed that her shotgun and Ian's SMG were short-ranged weapons so if some idiot creature decided to attack them, his two companions would stand idly while Matthew was to take them out at range with his Hunting Rifle. Some of the critters would inevitably get through to the two wastelanders, but the vault dweller saw that as their own misfortune. If he had to die, he'd much rather be taken down by a clean .223 FMJ headshot than be turned into a thin red paste by Tabitha's buckshot.

Another concern about his sanity arose when Matthew found himself smirking at the sight of his bullet piercing a mole-rat's skull and coming out of its ass at close range. Killing these deranged desert beings was almost enjoyable, but Matthew was still reluctant to do so, the long trek, usually in silence, giving him plenty of time to torture himself over all the people he killed during his short visit to California. The best he could do was try to put it behind him and promise himself to start shooting only after he'd done his best to work things out without killing. 'Of course' he thought 'if we're not outnumbered ten to one I won't need to do a thing because Tabitha'd blow their heads off before I could draw'.

Ian and Tabitha fucked each night. Matthew pretty much volunteered to be the first one to go on watch every night so they wouldn't have to wake up at 4 AM to get off. During these strolls further away from the tent for the first half hour or so Matthew would think back to the vault and Evelyn and try to make sense of his feelings for Tabitha. Admittedly, he was drunk when he admitted to himself that Tabitha attracts him in some strange way, but even sober he couldn't help but feel something akin to affection towards her. He always liked self-assertive women who don't take shit from anyone and don't fuss over small things, and Tabitha was all that incarnate. But how can he think this way about her, he loves Evelyn and that's the end of it. Many nights he fell asleep playing with her rusty nail ring on his finger, thinking of her. She hadn't visited him in his dreams for a week and he was feeling lonely because of the lack of that 'communication'.

'Stop shooting, idiot!' Ian and Tabitha shouted simultaneously as Matthew shot at a mole-rat at medium distance.

'Your accuracy is okay now' Tabitha said taking a step towards the approaching critter 'and I already told you to save ammo for greater threats, we've wasted enough bullets for target practice'

'What exactly is a greater threat?'

'A dog or something bigger' Tabitha replied 'We take these fuckers out like this' she said as she suddenly lunged forward and kicked the approaching critter straight in the face.

The mole-rat was not even an adult, a bit below their knees in height when on all fours, but nevertheless quite quick. But Tabitha, even in combat boots and that impractical-looking trench-coat was, surprisingly, quicker. The second kick to the ribcage lifted the beast from the ground and, as it fell on the sand again, another kick to the head made the creature's eye pop. The mutant rat, in great pain and completely disoriented, lied on the ground while Tabitha calmly returned to her back-pack, found a simple knife, and slit the creature's throat, not willing to stain her combat knives for this.

Matthew's mouth was agape. Kicking a mole-rat an inch from death was a new level of mean, but at the same time it was almost unbearably cool, especially with Tabitha doing it with that look - mildly irritated, but more likely bored. Suddenly the wasteland didn't seem so scary anymore.

'What time is it?' Tabitha asked casually while the mole-rat bled on the sand. Matthew checked his Pip-Boy absent-mindedly 'Eight PM'

'Might as well make camp, then' Tabitha said.

'There's a gas station nearby, we could look there' Ian said and the three moved out after Tabitha hung the dead mole rat by a rope and tossed it across her back, slightly staining her backpack.

A gas station could mean people, Matthew reasoned, and remembered the dead body and the hole in the ceiling the last time he was in one. Anything from the sad, broken old world he wanted to avoid, and everything from the misshaped, grotesque new world he wanted to shoot dead.

The station was empty and looked exactly like that other one Matthew's been in, except that this one didn't have half of its ceiling, and the old freezers and shelves were covered with even more dirt and rubbish.

'Crimson sometimes uses it as a break-point' Ian explained 'Though not so much because when they're going to or from Junktown they usually pass this place in the afternoon'

Once inside, Tabitha took off her trench-coat, revealing a Kevlar west under it. She took it off as well and was left with worn tan breeches and a white sleeveless shirt.

'You had a Kevlar under the coat?' Matthew asked surprised.

'No' she replied sarcastically 'I went to the crossfire at the Khan Camp wearing nothing but eighty-year old patched cloth'

Ian chuckled 'It has an additional use in battle'

'And what would that be?'

'You look a bit... well... fatter with it underneath the coat. Imagine a woman with a pre-war hat and a frame of someone who had one too many pre-war Salisbury steaks pointing a shotgun at your face. You can't help but underestimate her, right?'

Tabitha laughed. She had to admit, with a Kevlar and a trench-coat she looked like some sort of a fat brahmin rancher's wife, especially with the out-of-place hat, and that's probably why people didn't fire on all cylinders while fighting her, at least not until she shattered their knee-caps with a buckshot, but that was already the end of the battle.

'I just have the proper looks' Tabitha said, smiling 'Right now, I look like a starving mole-rat hunter tribal, especially if I deliberately not hold my gun properly' she gave another laugh 'I'm just easy to underestimate. And speaking of mole-rat hunting tribals, I think Matthew here could do with another lesson about wasteland cuisine'

Tabitha unceremoniously gave Matthew her knife, pointed at the dead mole-rat on the floor, and told him to 'open up that bitch'. The vault dweller took his sweet time doing it, and once he did 'open up that bitch' the smell almost made him throw up.

'Okay, first lesson, the anatomy of a mole-rat' Tabitha said.

'I'm a physician, I know that already' he retorted almost angrily, trying not to breathe through his nose.

'Then dive right in' Tabitha motioned at the opened-up creature.

Holding his breath Matthew managed to remove the internal organs without even throwing up, though there were many close calls, especially with intestines.

Ian was sitting on the counter with an already opened-up bottle of whisky, and Matthew helped him drink it several times.

'Now, there are many ways to prepare mole-rat' Tabitha said when Matthew placed all the internal organs in a pot 'Basically, we can make stew, curry, or just fry it. Each method of preparation of meat requires a separate set of organs for the best taste'

'I kinda think you -are- a mole-rat hunting tribal with all that wisdom' Ian joked.

'A proud Trapper Town native, thank you very much' Tabitha dismissed the slight insult 'I suppose we'll make a stew, it's good for you and doesn't take ages to make'

'Ah, good old Trapper Town' she sighed while showing Matthew how to cut mole-rat up properly 'Yeah, there are thugs all around, and people die all around you and their corpses get chewed up by rats, but it's still home, and a decent place to live, if somewhat boring'

'And here I was happy to have gotten over my nausea' Matthew grunted.

'People die all the time' Tabitha shrugged, though her voice lost that hint of sentimentality that was obvious when she talked about her home 'You kinda learn not to think too much of it'

'Yeah, and later on you can blow their heads off and not think too much of it since people die all the time'

Tabitha threw him an angry glare.

'So you were all mole-rat trappers up there?' Ian asked to change the subject and not let this end with a fight. It took Tabitha a couple seconds to get her eyes off Matthew and a couple more to answer.

'There are caves underneath Trapper Town that are full of mole-rats, pig-rats, rats, and more rats. When you get older you get to go with other trappers into the wastes to hunt some gecko'

'Giant lizard' Ian explained when he saw Matthew's puzzled look.

'I remember when I killed my first gecko' Tabitha chuckled 'Trapper Town's in a mall in a pre-war town o'Klamath, on the east side, the west is abandoned. So I'm strolling through Klamath with nothin' but a shovel in my hands, and I see 'im, further down the street, ready to go dashin' at me. It's like, high noon, we're both standing in the middle of the street, lookin' at each other. So it starts runnin' towards me, I pop a Buffout, and tear 'im a new one with my shovel, me, a girl of thirteen years age'

'Buffout as in 'highly addictive drug'?' Matthew's distaste was obvious in his voice.

'Yup' Tabitha didn't see anything wrong with it 'People in Trapper Town would eat rat or gecko all their lives, that ain't no good for their health, so when scavenging in east Klamath they didn't really do their best. I was a curious kid so -I- did my best lookin', found a stash of that stuff and used it to kick ass'

'But you're not an addict now, right?'

'Remember you asked me about my first time killin' a man? There were these thugs that would come to Trapper Town and rob us. They killed my parents, and lots of other folks one time, so the next time they came, we ambushed them. They had some decent equipment, just under-maintained, we had pipe-rifles, zip guns, and throwing knives. They had weapons and armour, we had numbers and the element of surprise. Problem was, I was a loner back then on account of my shitty personality, so no-one knew I was a junkie. But they saw me poppin' Buffout before the battle and when it was through decided to put me on a caravan tradin' gecko pelts'

'Why would they put an addict in a caravan?'

'They didn't want to have to work their asses off feedin' a helpless addict, so they signed me up hopin' I'd buy the farm underway'

'I'm sorry...'

'Ain't none of your fault. So there I was, all shakin' from withdrawal, draggin' my ass to the east to trade with some tribals in Clifftop. But I wasn't bad with my pipe rifle and didn't look like I was gonna kick the bucket soon, so one day I wake up and see everyone's gone'

'They abandoned you in the wasteland?'

'No, in the ruins of some pre-war town. Left me some food and water, enough for three days, my rifle, a dozen bullets, and a spear. Lived in the town for nine months all alone on my own ass 'till I was confident I could go the rest of the way to Clifftop myself. Talk about a rehab'

'So you became a caravan guard in this Clifftop?' Ian asked.

'No, the place was gone when I got there, raiders probably. I pushed east and happened to find Vault City. I camped outside because they didn't let anyone near them, and when a caravan came from the south, I signed up with them. It was for pennies, but it still got me a step towards my future, namely New Reno'

'Reno?' Matthew was suddenly very interested 'The biggest little town in the world?'

'Yeah. They still got that sign and everythin'. It was a gang town, there were like a dozen of 'em, each week some would be wiped out and new ones would arise. There were drugs, drunks, sluts, everythin' you'd expect from a town like that. Just seein' it made me more determined to become a decent merc'

Matthew tried to imagine that, a whole thriving city reduced to what Tabitha was talking about. It was really sad.

'This guy grabbed me on the street and said I was gonna be a slut for his bosses' Tabitha continued 'I fed him my spear. Then another guy came to me and offered to join his caravan, even bought me my first sawed-off. The rest is history'

The vault dweller meditated on that speech for a while. Hearing how bad life was up here made him feel guilty for having such a sheltered upbringing.

'Wow' Ian said 'Having walked such a thorny road to the heights of a merc explains why you're so tough'

'And how did you get to these heights?'

'Me? I just worked hard. Both of my parents were caravan guards back in the Boneyard... that's LA... one of them went off with a caravan while the other stayed to look after me and my brother. When my mom died... I was twelve... dad decided that since there's no one to look after us while he's away he might as well take us with him, that's how I got my first job - sitting with a handgun in the cart and occasionally shooting mole-rats for target practice'

'Nice, more kids with guns' Matthew thought sarcastically.

'Then my dad died... shot in the gut... and Pate and I just kept guarding caravans. Pete died years later, a poisoned arrow shot by some strange raiders. The venom wasn't radscorpion, there was nothing we could do about it. He died days later'

'I'm sorry' Matthew and Tabitha said simultaneously.

'So... I just moved to the Hub, signed up with Crimson, and the rest is history'

'So you weren't born a badass like me' Tabitha assessed jokingly 'You had to train hard to become one'

'I ain't a badass, at least not as bad as you, I just do quality work. -You're- all flashy and cocky'

'That I am' Tabitha agreed, laughing, and cut the last of the mole-rat 'All right, now we add some mutfruit, some irradiated plants and roots, and the exquisite seasoning of salt. Seeing as how Ian and I shared our life stories with you, I'll have you cut things up while talkin' now'

Matthew lowered his head. Hearing their stories made him want to not even think of his own life, fearing that the two will see just how unfair things are and take it out on his spoiled ass.

'Nothing special. Lived in a vault, real boring, spent my days reading textbooks and learning medicine while the real doctor took care of the few injuries that there were. Never let us do a thing, always said the vault was a clockwork mechanism and until he's confident we can do good work he wouldn't risk 'threatening the balance'. It was as if we were robots, we all got up at 0700, worked until 1700 and sometimes longer and conjured up conflicts. The life was so boring that if one woman commented badly on another one's hair, it would turn into a scandal that would drag on for weeks because there's nothing else to do'

'Ouch, talk about a radscorp nest' Tabitha commented roughing her hair 'Guess I'd stir up some trouble with my hair and wasteland attire'

'They'd make you change into a jumpsuit. That's the biggest issue with the vault, we all wore identical skin-tight jumpsuits, all levels, corridors, and rooms looked the same... no wonder so many people had VDS'

'VDS? Sounds like an STD' Tabitha joked. Matthew cocked a courtesy smile. Tabitha's jokes were usually way off.

'Vault Depressive Syndrome. Some people can't stand living in that environment and get... well... depressed'

'Wow, the tragedy of your people breaks my heart' Tabitha rolled her eyes.

'There's no need to lecture me on that, Tabitha, I'm fully aware that I'm a lucky cradled son of a bitch to have been born there, and you've already made it clear that I'm a vaulty pussy'

He wasn't planning on snapping like that, but for some reason he just... did. At least admitting it made him feel slightly better, though he feared Tabitha would respond badly to this.

She didn't. She just smiled that cocky smile of hers 'Well then, knowing your flaws is the first step in becoming a better person' she laughed 'I said I've been to Vault City, they're all tight-ass vaulties there, and as long as you're not like that I'm fine with you, so there's no need to feel guilty for being lucky enough to have had a childhood that wasn't all fucked up. Though I -would- have you possess some better shootin' skills'

'Why don't your folks leave the vault?' Ian asked.

'Who knows' Matthew replied a couple of seconds later 'We're afraid. Well, most of us anyway, there are some people that want to leave, but the Overseer won't let them'

'The High Lord of the Vault?' Ian asked.

'Exactly. It was His Majesty's whim that sent me here' he motioned around them.

'Well, nice of you to still try and save them even though you apparently hate the place' Tabitha laughed. Matthew admitted it wasn't all that fine, but now more than ever he knew that what's on the surface world is far worse than a boring, monotone life. He sometimes thought of living outside as sitting in a brand new Corvega with an open road ahead, and, admittedly, it -was- like that in a way, but being a vautie was all Matthew knew. As much as he'd like to be a wastelander and live a 'glorious' life like his companions who went against all odds and became successful caravan guards, he could never be one because of the simple fact that he didn't have a clue about what to do with this open road ahead of him. Besides, if he was faced with the same hardships Tabitha or Ian endured, he'd probably just fail and die or become some cannibal raider junkie. It came to him a second later that it was kind of strange that he was thinking about being a wastelander as something he'd like to do, even more so thinking it was kind of 'glorious'.

'A bottle-cap for your thoughts?' Ian asked Matthew breaking the silence.

'Skin-tight jumpsuits' Tabitha replied in his stead 'I want one. I want to see -you- in one' she told Matthew.

'I wasn't talking to you so you don't get a cap' Ian chuckled 'Matt?'

'I... I was just thinking that I really don't have a purpose around here' he finished cutting up the mutfruits.

'You're saving your people' Ian replied 'And you're making dinner. It'll probably be ghastly but you're still doing something. And you're our spotter, and the doctor since your textbooks probably taught you more than the two of us combined will ever know'

'Yeah' Matthew agreed half-heartedly 'I guess so'

'Well then, cook, let's get this irradiated mess boilin''

The stew was god-awful, at least to Matthew, but his companions ate it without any expression whatsoever, so he couldn't say if he'd done well by wasteland standards.

Matthew took first watch, as always, and went outside to give the two some fucking space. He strolled down the highway a bit to the south, thinking back about his sudden outburst about Tabitha remorselessly blowing up people's heads. That made her angry, and that's something he didn't want to do, but Matthew was angry as well at her lack of compassion. He remembered retorting coldly when Tabitha made fun of VDS. She wasn't angry, she was... completely reasonable in the words that followed. Actually, that exchange felt good, like both of them were talking to each other on the same level. Matthew had to admit that Tabitha can be mean at times, but she's completely reasonable and serious as long as you are...

But would that mean that his first outburst was unreasonable?

Matthew was confused.

Okay, the fact that she's reasonable is undeniable. She can be difficult and her morals may have lower standards, but she was reasonable. Perhaps in this shattered world people dying all around you really wasn't that big a deal? But if that was true, then this world is a lot worse than he thought. Wait, didn't he hear Tabitha remark that the people of Shady Sands were, according to her, 'a bunch of pussies'? That would mean the rest of the wasteland is downright mean and murderous.

As soon as he arrived at that conclusion the trip became far less enjoyable.

Ian was a man who enjoyed mornings, so when Matthew came back into the gas station he woke Tabitha up. He undressed and was almost in his sleeping back when Tabitha approached him, and, with a smirk, gave him his vault jumpsuit that he hadn't noticed she'd taken, and, with a smirk, whispered a 'thanks' and left. Matthew made a mental note to wash the thing thoroughly.

Wasteland

2161-12-23 04:14 PM

'And we're back' Matthew thought sarcastically as he closed his eyes and 'took a moment to collect himself', bringing that cold side of him forward. The overgrown mantises were almost on top of him and the situation was looking dire, though, Matthew noticed, the closer they got, the meaner Tabitha's Combat Shotgun appeared to become. Matthew was right behind Ian and Tabitha, his Hunting Rife was thrown down to the sand, and he'd drawn his 10mm pistol so he'd be able to fire bullets faster. A dozen mantises were already down for the count and a dozen more were about to get on top of them, and it was Matthew's fault: he saw the swarm of overgrown bugs from afar, but thought it was some sort of an optical illusion or just a cloud of sand.

Ian dropped his SMG and fell on the sand on his back kicking and thrashing trying to get the mantises off of him. The creatures were barely 30 centimetres tall but their forelegs were sharp and quite potent. Matthew sprang to action.

The three mantises on Ian were the fastest ones, and, taking a few steps back, Tabitha was able to take care of the rest with her Shotgun without being overwhelmed, though the last mantis managed to get so close to her that she had to kick it. The insect instantly dug its forelegs into the boot, but it proved fatal as Tabitha stomped her foot to the sand and fed the insect the back of her rifle. Turning around she saw Matthew standing right above Ian, holding his rifle by the barrel and swinging the butt of the gun at the insects with quite decent precision, despite Ian's thrashing. Tabitha finished off the wounded mantises and approached the two men.

'Stay still. Tabitha, bring me my bag' Matthew commanded Tabitha, catching her off guard with his cold tone of voice. Tabitha froze for a second with surprise and then gave Matthew his Doctor's Bag from his backpack. Ian was lying still on the sand, trying to show off a cocky smirk, but failing at concealing the pain.

'This is humiliating' he said 'It was just a few mantises, why're you telling me to lie still on my back like I got a serious injury?'

'Because I'm the doctor here' Matthew replied coldly 'I don't want you thrashing about while I tend to you and neither one of us wants you to get sand in your wounds'

'I'm keepin' watch' Tabitha stated, but the truth was she couldn't take her eyes off of Matthew. That cold tone of his almost filled her stomach with butterflies and her head filled with the foggy memories of their first meeting. Damn, how can that vaultie be nothing more than a soft pussy one moment and a mean wastelander emanating the coldness of steel all around him? And why was she excited in -that- way?

Matthew kept his head on Ian's wounds. His leather armour offered no protection for his arms, and while mantises didn't manage to reach his skin through the chest-piece, his hands like a cat's scratching pole. The vault dweller opened his Doctor's Bag 'A stimpak or two and some stitching and you'll be right as rain'

'Stitching?' Ian complained 'Just throw in another stimpak, there's no need for that!'

'You'll thank me when you're an old healthy man' Matt retorted 'Unless you want your hands to be weak and shaky before you're even fifty'

'It's because of Stimpaks?' Tabitha and Ian asked simultaneously. Matthew blinked, confused.

'Yeah. You didn't know, did you? God USA's backwards these days'

'No, I didn't...' Tabitha shook her head slowly, still brandishing a surprised expression and a smile trying to hide it 'I also didn't know you can swing clubs so well, though I should shoot you in the balls for using such a good weapon this way'

'Probably better than getting my balls ripped by insects... or Ian having his balls ripped by them. And that's not some Stone Age club swinging, it's golf. Well, kinda. As a future doctor I had to prepare for the possibility that I might have to perform a surgery in the future, and I played makeshift golf and tried some lock-picking at the vault to make my hands steady'

'Ah, the hero is a thief!' Tabitha laughed. Matthew suddenly froze and raised his head, making chills run down Tabitha's spine when he looked her straight in the eye, his eyes cold as steel and almost visibly sharp under his frown.

'Could you knock the hero crap off already? I'm not in Shady Sands, surrounded by people who have some sort of delusions about my abilities and knowledge of the outside world anymore'

Tabitha didn't know what to say. Silence fell between the three companions.

'Come on, she's just teasin'' Ian said with a smile after a few seconds 'You can take a joke, can't you?'

'If I take it I give myself the liberty to start making jokes at your expense as well, and I doubt you want us to start bickering in the middle of the wastes'

'You have a lot to learn' Ian laughed as Matthew's frown started expressing more irritation 'But one thing you -have- already learnt, it would seem, is standing up for yourself. Of course, it's kinda meaningless unless you can draw faster than the other guy, but that's what you got sweet Betty here for'

'My name is Tabitha' the woman growled angrily. Ian chuckled at the frustration while Matthew stared into the sand with a vacant expression for a few seconds, and then continued his work sluggishly.

Junktown

2161-12-25 06:27 PM

Junktown was exactly what it sounded like: a town of junk. A wall of pre-war cars, trucks, and basically anything else that's big and metal surrounded a cluster of houses built the same way the Khan Main House was - out of junk, primarily plywood and slate. A lazy smoke floated above the city. Ian had described Junktown beforehand: a trading town, built from ground up, has a casino and lots of alcohol, hospitable, and laid-back. Somehow, looking at the city from atop a dune, Matthew could tell that all that was obvious just by looking at it.

A piece of machinery Matthew couldn't identify served as the gate into the town. Tabitha looked at the guard on the other side of the entrance and smiled: a professional, you can immediately tell. She might just like her visit here. The guard welcomed them into town cheerfully, and, with the same smile, suggested that drawing their weapons while in town was not a good idea. The 'suggestion' was laced with threat, and Tabitha noticed that the man had already sized them up. Yeah, she could probably live here.

The three newcomers stopped immediately past the gate.

'The Crash House is up ahead' Ian said 'We can get a room there'

'Wow, a whole night of sleep. I miss that' Tabitha yawned and stretched.

'You want to go to sleep right now?' He asked mischievously.

'Not unless you've got somethin' better in mind' She winked at him. Matthew rolled his eyes, took off his backpack, and gave it to Ian after withdrawing a small bag of bottle caps.

'I suddenly feel a great need to go hit the bar, so I'll probably find my way to you in a couple of hours' he said sarcastically 'Where -is- a bar around here?'

Ian took the backpack with a grateful smile 'Every square feet in this town is a bar, but the place you probably wanna be in is even further up ahead, the Skumm Pitt'

'Skumm Pitt?' Matthew repeated incredulously 'That's... consistent' He turned around and walked away 'See you in a bit'

As soon as Matthew was out of sight, Tabitha grinned and threw her hand on Ian's shoulder 'So... Shall we?'

'Yeah' Ian replied, grinning 'That kid learns real fast, doesn't he?'

Tabitha snickered.

Junktown

2161-12-25 06:41 PM

Matthew walked towards the Skumm Pitt slowly, taking in the surroundings. Junktown, despite being built from literal junk, had a strange charm about it: it felt easy-going, relaxed, and somehow free. The best thing about it was that no one knew him. If he was in a vault he'd be constantly stopped in the hallway by some person he can barely place to chat. The vault was full of people you had seen your whole life but never got to know. And Shady Sands... he was a bit too shocked to enjoy it at first, and a bit too angry to be hailed the Great Hero all the time the second time around. No one here knew him, no one was watching him, and he could do whatever he wanted without thinking about what people will think of him. If it wasn't for that slight twisting in his gut every time he remembered his mission he could probably see himself living here...

... Nah, that was a stupid idea. He was lucky to have Ian and Tabitha to guide him along the way, and ever more lucky to have been taken for a hero in Shady Sands and have gotten enough supplies to make it here. He had heard of the world before the war: 'Nothing is free, you have to fight every inch of the way'. And that was even before the bombs went off and food and water shortage became a universal problem. What in the world could he do up here to get him some food on the table? He was practically 'born yesterday'.

A loud bark and the scream of a man running down what passed for a street in the settlement stirred Matthew from his thoughts.

'Failed again?'

The running man had stopped by a tall scrawny blonde standing by the house across the street and leaned on the ancient slate of the wall.

'God-damned fucking dog!' The man was shouting 'There's no reasoning with it! It keeps coming back into the house!'

'Tossing the jerky was a retarded idea, Phil' the woman crossed her arms on her chest 'I say you lure it away with jerky, I come in and close the door'

'Why do -I- have to be the one waving meat in front of a starving dog? You do it!'

'I am faster than you, and that dog will have made it to the main gate and back before you run across the road into the house'

'You know what? Fuck you, Marla!'

The scrawny blonde, Marla, didn't hear the man's insult as she was looking straight at Matthew. Only then did Matthew realize he'd been gawking at the couple for some time now. He lowered his head and tried to walk away, but was suddenly thrown down to the ground by a dog hadn't noticed coming. As he fell on the sand, the dog jumped on his chest and ran his wide tongue through Matthew's face. The reek from its mouth was indescribable. For a second Matthew was expecting the mutt to bite his throat off, but the dog just kept licking his face until Matthew mustered enough courage to push it away from him. The dog obediently got off Matthew.

'My home!' The man, Phil, exclaimed and ran into the house up ahead. The woman kept standing with her arms crossed, and a grin on her face.

'Well now, it seems you saved our home' she said while Matthew got up and cleaned the sand off his black leathers 'How did you do that?'

'How did I do what?'

The woman gave a short laugh.

'That's funny. How did you get the dog to get off our doorstep? He's been there the whole day, didn't let anyone, even us, get even near to it. And of course, my moron of a husband couldn't figure out how to get in for hours'

'I... didn't do anything'

The dog was sitting on the sand by Matthew's side obediently, panting and wiggling its tail.

'I guess the mutt just likes you, then. Thanks for getting our home back' Marla chuckled and followed her husband into the house. Matthew stared at her back until she closed the door behind her and then turned to the dog, which looked overjoyed, if it's even possible for dogs to -be- overjoyed.

'Hi' Matthew said to the dog awkwardly 'So who are you?'

The dog kept staring, panting, and wiggling.

'Um... okay... bye then...' Matthew took a few steps back. The dog kept sitting and staring. He turned around slowly and continued walking towards the bar, but a couple of seconds later the dog caught up to him.

'Um... you can go now'

The dog looked Matthew in the eye and said nothing. Great, it looks like he got a pet dog. An hour ago he hadn't even seen a real live dog and now he's got one that seems determined to follow him around. He sighed and continued walking, and so did the dog.

'I wonder if it'd be awkward to ask Ian and Tabitha for help on this one?' He thought.

As Matthew made a turn, a big rotating neon sign that read 'GIZMO'S' appeared before him, right in front of Gizmo's Casino. That was awkward: Matthew didn't think post-apocalyptic Americans would be big on neon signs. God damn, this was a crazy world.

Skumm Pitt was right next to Gizmo's and appeared to be the more silent of the two: there was a lot of shouting, laughing, and some strange noises coming from the casino. Matthew decided he'd rather go for the quiet place.

'Um... I don't think dogs are allowed inside' Matthew said to the dog when he got near the bar 'Um... wait?'

The dog just kept staring.

'Sit?'

The dog kept staring.

'Um... Dogs listen to you when you sound all big and powerful, right? So... here goes... SIT!'

The dog yawned.

'God damn it!' Matthew yelled in frustration, surprising even himself. Nice, now he's feeling like an idiot. At least the sounds from Gizmo's probably covered his voice and he didn't just let the whole town hear that.

A chuckle behind him suggested someone did hear that.

Matt turned around and saw a man in forties standing by the door to the bar lying on its wall and trying to light a cigarette. The man's blond hair was cut closely and he wore an old trench-coat that was so worn it didn't really have a colour to talk about.

'Dogmeat!' The man called when he lit his cigarette 'Come here, boy!'

The dog skipped to the man and the man patted him on the head. 'Still causing trouble, you little mutt?' the man said with a smile.

'Is... is it yours?' Matthew asked the man.

'Nope. Belonged to a guy named Luke. He died, what... about a month ago, always wondered where the dog went'

'Oh...'

'Luke also liked black leathers, that's probably why the mutt's been following you'

'He stood at the doorstep of some house and didn't let its owners come in...'

'Hah! Typical Dogmeat!'

The man lifted his eyes from the dog and inspected Matthew.

'You... want to keep it?' Matt asked, hoping to break the uncomfortable sudden silence.

'Nope' the man smiled 'He's yours now'

'I don't want it! It doesn't listen to me! It just keeps following me and I want to go the bar and I can't because of the stupid mutt'

That moment it came to Matthew that he was wrong before: he couldn't just do anything he wanted in this town and pay no heed to what people think about him. He suddenly realised he was -so- bitching and the smirk on the man's face made his go red.

'Sorry... I'm just tired'

'It's okay' the man chuckled 'Dogmeat's a good dog, he can come into the bar, he never shits on the floor' the man threw away the butt of the cigarette and opened the door 'Come in, let's have a drink'

'Okay... thanks... name's Matt by the way'

'Hello, Matt, I'm Tycho'


	7. Jumpsuit, Part One

A/N: I still don't own Fallout.

Her steps were ragged and sketchy, while he strode forward through the wasteland like a phantom: smoothly, as if his feet weren't even touching the sand. Her breath was faint and her expression reflected the pain and exhaustion she was suffering. He had a small content smile on his face, and his eyes, gazing into the distance, were peaceful. The two of them were slowly making their way to what seemed like a huge dark spot on the sand in the distance.

'I want you to know how strong you are' Matthew said, his eyes still staring at the distance. The love he felt for her was obvious in his voice, and it made her feet somewhat lighter to drag.

'After surviving this, just think about what you can accomplish from now on' he continued. 'Now you're as though as any wastelander; you can do anything!'

'I'm still in the middle of nowhere' she replied, her breath ragged, her lips dry, and her tongue hard like a rock. 'And I don't want to accomplish 'anything'. I want to live the rest of my life with you'

'So do I' his smile widened a little bit. He turned his head and looked at her with the love and tenderness she was drenched in anytime they were together, back when things were simple and fine. 'But it's a long and thorny road. I -am- going to wait for you at the end, no matter how long it takes. Because I know I -will- be seeing you'

The dark spot had turned into the silhouette of a thriving, if somewhat dirty, desert oasis and even her blurry vision could make out the caravan carts and their drivers at the settlement's entry.

'I already -am- seeing you in everything, even this god-forsaken stretch of barren wasteland'

His smile widened and he leaned in close to her. Everything about him looked divine that moment, the smooth skin, the light dancing in his blue eyes, and that smile, oh, that smile!

'Me too. Every second of my life I am seeing you'

He kissed her on the lips, so lightly that she barely felt anything physical. She closed her eyes. She was drenched in love once more.

When she opened her eyes she was alone, except for the caravaners that were now approaching her.

'You alright?' she heard one of them ask as they reached her.

She smiled ever so faintly and passed out on the sand.

Junktown

2161-12-25 10:22 PM

The Skum Pitt, Matthew was surprised to find, was a quaint place. It was dirty and a bit dark, but it somehow felt... raw, natural. He sat down with Tycho at one of the tables and ordered some beer. The waitress, a stunningly pretty young woman named Trish, brought them their drinks and winked at Matthew. He smiled back and averted further eye contact by looking around to see where Dogmeat was. The dog was making itself comfortable on the wood floor by his chair. Tycho cracked a smile at the display of the younger man's shyness. There weren't many people at the bar at this hour, and Matthew reasoned that most of them are probably at the casino. The owner and bartender, Neal, was wiping the glasses behind the bar absent-mindedly, and a weathered singer of sorts, Ismarc as Tycho called him, was sitting at the corner slowly singing one song after another. None of the songs made much sense, but their slow and melancholic flow gave the bar a pleasant atmosphere. For the first time in a while, Matthew truly relaxed.

'New to Junktown, eh?' Tycho asked after a long silence. Matthew nodded lazily.

'Yeah, came in just this evening, just passing by, going to the Hub'

'Ah, the usual. Everyone just comes here to drink or just passes by'

'This is a nice place' Matthew was being honest. Maybe it was just that the bar, shrouded with darkness on the outside, looked like a safe, impenetrable cave, and that felt really quaint to him.

'Yeah, Junktown's got its charm' Tycho agreed. They each took a gulp of their beers.

'So, you're heading to the Hub?' Tycho asked.

'Yeah' Matthew replied, tensing up a bit. 'Me and my friends, we're going there to get a decent job, guarding the caravans' he said. That wasn't exactly the truth, but it also wasn't exactly a lie. Anyway, he didn't feel like telling the truth about his business in the Hub to anyone who asks.

'Really?' the older man chuckled, 'You don't look like much of a fighter, no offense. And that strange thing on your wrist says you're some kind of an engineer'

'This?' Matthew asked, faking a smile and raising his left wrist with the Pip-Boy on, 'This is my notebook, of a sort. I'm the doctor, my two friends are the guns. I just patch them up if something goes wrong'

'Oh' Tycho said, taking another gulp of his beer, 'I was kinda hoping you were a tech, Junktown could use one'

'Yeah? Why?'

'Well, the business has been good lately so they're thinking of... well, getting a few things that would help people live more comfortably. I helped Killian with the lights around here, for instance, but that's about as much as I'm good for. Many houses here run on car batteries and such, and no one really knows how to fix them once they break'

'Sorry, don't know anything about that' Matthew replied.

'Had a girl up here who could, she showed me how to do it. I thought I got it, but as soon as she left I was helpless again' Tycho chuckled 'She went south with one of the caravans, to the Hub. I swear to god, Killian should hire someone from there to come up here'

'I take it you're not the town mechanic, then?'

'Nah, I'm a Desert Ranger' Tycho said with pride, probably expecting the younger man to gasp in awe.

'What's that?' Matthew asked instead. Tycho gave him an incredulous look.

'I know we usually don't operate this far west, but I thought you would've heard of us'

'Sorry' Matthew replied. 'Don't get many stories from the sand and rocks of the wasteland'

The vault dweller couldn't help but mentally pat himself on the back for getting into character so quickly.

'Well, we're the descendants of the Texas Rangers, though we operate mostly in Nevada. We're taught from childhood about shooting and surviving, so we could make the world a better place for everybody'

'Sounds cool. How do you do that?'

'We offer our aid to those who can't help themselves: defend towns from raiders, hunt down outlaws, cannibals, and such. We're the law of the wastes. I myself am more of a scout, decided to come here and check out California, maybe some of us will move in to help folks up here, though I must say California's pretty well off, can't compare it to the tribals in Nevada and Arizona'

'Ah, the police force' Matthew's voice got a somewhat more serious tone as he took another gulp of the beer. 'You're the justice around Nevada?'

'Yeah. Judge, jury, and executioner'

Executioner. Great.

'I see' the vault dweller said plainly.

'What's wrong?'

Matthew looked Tycho in the eye. He looked like a good man, maybe he can tell this to him...

'I killed my first man recently' Matthew said, his gaze locked firmly on the tabletop 'I kind of... can't understand how people can go around killing each other. I mean, it's...' he wanted to say immoral, but decided not to, and got some more beer in him instead.

'But if you've been around these friends of yours that shouldn't be news to you'

'Looking at it from the sidelines and actually doing it are different things' Matthew replied, staring intently at the wall behind the bar, admiring the way the dim lights reflected on a shiny metal urn on a shelf, a strange thing to see in a place like this. 'Besides, I frowned upon it all the time when those two did it'

He looked at Tycho. He was frowning.

'I know' Matthew rolled his eyes 'Look at the wastelander who hasn't heard of 'kill or be killed', heard that a thousand fucking times'

'It -is- strange' Tycho said after a long pause. 'But I'm not saying it's bad. Many people kill without remorse, and even if it's for the right cause, it's still a rare virtue to actually care about it' he smiled, 'A virtue worth respect'

'Thanks' Matthew smiled 'Tell that to my comrades'

'It grows on you, you know' Tycho replied, staring at something on the wall behind the bar. 'It grew on me, and I understand it grew on them. And it bothers me. I mean, it -is- kill or be killed, that's just the way it is, but if you're doing it without remorse... That's just wrong'

The vault dweller looked at the ranger and the ranger looked back at him.

'As long as you feel that remorse,' the older man continued, 'you are still human'

Matthew broke the gaze and looked at his hand, wrapped around the bottle of beer. He drank some. The man was probably right...

'I don't want that remorse' he said. 'Or rather, I don't want to do anything so... wrong'

Tycho chuckled, 'Then you got born in the wrong century'

Matthew smiled back, 'Yeah. Fuck it. Cheers'

Junktown

2161-12-25 10:49 PM

'He's not going to like this' Ian smiled mischievously as he opened up Matthew's backpack and started rummaging through it. Tabitha and he were in their hotel room at the Crash House, where the beds were cleaner and the walls had fewer halls than those of the other buildings.

'What he doesn't know can't hurt him' Tabitha said with a smile. She was lying on the bed on her side in her underwear, stroking an unruly lock with one hand absent-mindedly.

'Here it is' Ian took out the vault jumpsuit. 'It -is- a kinky thing'

'Feels good on the skin, if a little tight around the chest' Tabitha smiled. 'Won't be a problem for you'

'Oh it's my turn now?' Ian asked sarcastically, 'I thought you -loved- wearing it yourself despite all of the daydreaming you had about me in it'

'I saw you, I wanted to try it on, and I liked it. Now it's your turn. Come on, don't be shy'

'Don't be shy, she says! I'm the first one who did this!'

He put it on while Tabitha lazily changed her position and sat down on the edge of the bed.

'So' Ian said as he closed the zipper, 'do I look like Matt now; do you like it?'

'You look hot and I like it' Tabitha frowned. 'Matt doesn't have anything to do with this'

'Really?' He asked with that mischievous grin again as he approached her and sat down on her knees facing her. 'It doesn't make you shiver when he talks with that cool, strong voice of his?'

'I'm a woman' Tabitha replied as she stoke his hips. 'He's kinda hot sometimes, but, really, do you think we could ever be a couple? He and I don't work. The two of -us- do'

Ian was gently rubbing his finger on Tabitha's upper lip and as she finished he let the hand slide gently down her jaw line, her neck, and then her side as he kissed passionately.

'So I'm not the runner-upper?' Ian asked without a hint of seriousness in his voice. Tabitha wrapped her arm around his neck.

'No, he'd be the runner-upper if you went away, and prolly not a good one at that' She kissed him once 'He's not my type. You are, you sexy fucking smartass'

He smiled and gently laid her down on the bed, his tongue wandering in her mouth and his hand wandering around her slender waist. He took off her bra and panties while her hands roamed freely through his body.

'Thank god for Shady Sands' he said. 'Otherwise I wouldn't have met you'

Suddenly, a scream from the next room broke the passionate embrace. A woman was screaming in panic next door, and through the thin junk walls the two could hear the angry shouting of a man.

'Goddamn it...' Ian cursed as he stood up and snatched his pistol from the table. 'We should probably check that out'

Tabitha stood up without a word, grabbed her coat and her gun, doing only two buttons before she rushed out of the room after Ian.

Junktown

2161-12-25 10:54 PM

Matthew leaned closer to Tycho and whispered, 'Is that normal?'

Two men by the bar were arguing for maybe ten minutes now, and they were now both off their stools and shouting to each other the obscene ways they are going to kill each other, and the way they did suggested those weren't exactly empty threats. Half of the patrons of the bar didn't even seem to notice the impossible-not-to-notice argument. The other half, like Tycho, just watched the men without any interest.

'Skullz mouthing off? Yeah, normal' Tycho replied, his voice sounding bored and a little bit tired, which Matthew thought was kind of strange after all the beers the ranger had.

'I take it the 'Skullz' are the local gang?' Matthew asked.

'Yup, Gizmo's little enforcers' Tycho replied plainly. 'Just here to cause trouble and occasionally shake down someone foolish enough not to repay their debts to the casino owner. Bunch of freeloading assholes'

Tycho looked at Matthew's empty bottle of beer, then his, and motioned Trish, the pretty waitress, to bring them some more booze.

One of the men, the taller and bulkier one, suddenly right-hooked the other in the jaw, and he fell down on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth. The taller man kicked him in the ribs and drew a knife from his boot. Trish, carrying two bottles of beer, gave the two men a wide berth and delivered the drinks without so much as looking their way.

'That's enough, Jerry, leave' the bartender said calmly, pointing a gun at the taller man, Jerry. Matthew was amazed by the fact he didn't even see him draw. Jerry stared at the owner-bartender of the bar with a murderous gaze for a couple of seconds, put his knife back, spat on the man on the floor, and simply left. Still no one in the bar seemed to notice the argument. The smaller man slowly stood up.

'No fun, Neal' he said. 'I was gonna gut that bitch'

'Yeah, you sure were, Jack' Neal replied, frowning.

'Why do you always have to be a buzz kill?' Jack whined as he leaned on the bar. Trish was returning to the bar, and as she passed by him, Jack suddenly lunged forward, grabbed her by the hip, and pulled her to him.

'You can make it up to me, baby' he said grinning, wrapping his arm around the waitress, who was now trying to escape. 'After all this excitement I fancy a fuck'

'Get your hands off of her' Neal threatened. Matthew was immediately aware of the glint of serious threat in his eyes and voice.

'Get your hands off of me or I'm telling Saul' Trish demanded, struggling to break free of him.

'Oh yeah, bitch? Remember what happened the last time you did that?'

'Yeah' she replied, suddenly stopping to struggle, looking him straight in the eye, and continuing with loathe in her voice. 'He beat up your sorry ass, and you came running back to Gizmo who almost closed the ring'

'Yeah' Jack replied cockily. 'And he still can. Besides, don't pretend you don't like a good fuck from the Skullz, you ugly whore'

There was a loud bang, and bloody pieces of Jack's brain splattered all over the floor and Matthew and Tycho's table. Jack's dead body hit the floor, and after the first few seconds of shock, Trish kicked him in the ribs 'That's what you get, you fucking bastard!' Her whole body was shaking and he was close to getting hysterical. Half of the bar's patrons stood up and left without a word or an expression on their faces. Matthew noted that Ismarc's singing had stopped at some point.

Tycho sighed, took a gulp of his beer, and slowly stood up. Neal put his gun behind the bar and approached the dead body.

'Help you with it?' Tycho asked. Neal nodded.

'This is Gizmo's little shit, let's just dump him at his doorstep'

Tycho turned around, motioned Matthew to approach Trish, who was now sitting at the bar and trying not to spill whiskey all over the counter as she poured a glass for herself with shaky hands, and then grabbed the Skull's dead body by the hands while Neal grabbed it by the feet, and both men dragged it out of the bar.

Ismarc continued singing and the other patrons continued talking like nothing happened. Matthew took a gulp of his beer, frowned at the bloodstains all over, and approached the bar, sitting down on a stool by Trish.

'Are you okay?' he asked, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. She immediately looked up at his face with tension, but something about him probably put her at ease. She drank the glass in a single gulp and set it down on the counter.

'Yeah' she replied finally, staring intently at the glass in her hand. 'Yeah, I kinda got used to it, living here and all'

'I'm sorry' Matthew said, not knowing what else he could possibly say. She looked up from the glass at him and smiled. A strange but pleasant shiver ran down the vault dweller's spine.

'It's okay' she said. 'One less Skull to deal with. God, I wish Killian would just run them out of town'

Matthew assumed this Killian was the town's Sherriff.

'Why doesn't he?' he asked. Trish's smile widened.

'New in town, huh? Killian can't just throw people away for nothing unless they've done something wrong. And even then he needs poof, and since these fuckers are all Gizmo's little boys there are usually no witnesses to their acts and no complaints about them'

Matthew thought about it.

'That sucks' he said. Trish laughed.

'You're cute' she said. Matthew tried to reply, but cast his eyes down instead. Trish laughed again. 'So cute. Come on, let's have a drink together'

Junktown

2161-12-25 10:56 PM

Ian, still in Matthew's jumpsuit, ran out of the room with half-naked Tabitha in tow. There, by the door to the room the screams kept coming from, they saw the hotel's owner, Marcelles, looking wide-eyed at the door, obviously too scared to open it.

'What was that?' Ian asked approaching her.

'Sinthia's in there with some guy' the woman whispered back, frightened. 'God, he must be some kind of a psycho, he's hurting her!'

'You take the front, I'll check out if the room's window's open' Tabitha whispered hastily to Ian and ran out.

'Will you help her?' Marcelles pleaded.

Ian nodded and motioned her to go away. She took a few steps away from the door, folded her arms on her chest, and kept staring nervously at the door to the room. Ian slowly opened the door.

The room was lit by a dim table lamp, attached to some sort of a battery. A naked woman was lying on the bed, clutching her cheek and a bulky man was standing over her in his boxers, rage in his eyes. Ian noticed that the window was shut, and only then saw that the crazed man was staring at him, as if ready to attack.

'Hey, hey, I'm not here to fight you' Ian tried to calm the man down. 'What's going on in here?'

'The bitch ripped on my mother!' the man was fuming. 'She said she's a dirty slut! This fucking whore said that!' he turned to the woman and was looking like he wanted to hit her again.

'Calm down, calm down.' Ian said, taking a step into the room. The man grabbed a pistol from the nightstand and pointed it at the woman, who started sobbing uncontrollably.

'Take another step and I'll blow the bitch's brain out!' the man shouted. Ian stopped and slowly to a step back, returning to the doorway.

'Look, it doesn't have to be this way' Ian tried. 'If you shoot her - and me - the guards are going to be all over you. Do you want that?'

'No one talks shit about my mother!' the man shouted. He was looking at Sinthia like a rabid dog looking at its first lunch in a week. 'I'm gonna end her pathetic whore's life!'

Tabitha quietly walked back into the Crash House and returned Marcelles questioning look by shaking her head.

'What do we do now?' the hotel owner whispered.

'Look at me. Look at me!' Ian raised his voice. The man looked at him. 'Let's talk, okay? Let's see if we can work this out'

The man shook his head. 'No way, man, no way, the bitch's gotta pay!' The prostitute's sobs got louder again.

'This ain't gonna do' Tabitha murmured. She handed Marcelles her pistol while she quickly took her coat off, and then took back the pistol. Ian was on the right side of the doorway, she was to the right of the door... maybe this would work...

Dressed the same as the moment she was born, Tabitha slowly approached Ian, stood at his left while hiding her hand with the pistol behind his back, and gave the man a seductive look.

'Hey' she said with a small smile.

The man, seeing before him an attractive naked woman, paused, and that was just what she needed. She suddenly raised the pistol and shot it three times from right above Ian's right shoulder. The first and third bullet missed entirely. The second hit the man in the shoulder. Ian suddenly bolted at the man and kicked him right in the stomach, throwing him on the ground on his back. He stomped on the man's wrist and he let go of the pistol, which Ian then kicked behind the bed. Sinthia ran out of the room, past Marcelles, and out into the town. Ian turned the attacker around, on his stomach, and jumped on his back to keep him down. Tabitha calmly approached him, pointing a pistol at his head.

'Simmer down, buddy, it's all over' she said calmly. He looked up at her.

'Hey there, sexy'

Tabitha frowned. 'Take a hike, momma's boy'

The man started thrashing, but Ian kept him down.

'That was insane' Ian scolded Tabitha. 'He could've killed her, do you understand just how unlikely your plan was to work? I mean... God!'

'What's going on in here?' there were suddenly three guards in the motel room. The one at the front, Lars, frowned at Tabitha. 'You! Put the gun down and get dressed!'

'What're the charges, officer?' she asked calmly.

'Put-down-the-gun and get-dressed'

'Tabitha' Ian pleaded.

Tabitha sighed and slowly threw the gun on the bed. Marcelles shambled into the room, still shaken, and handed her the coat, which she put on slowly and calmly.

'That man attacked Sinthia. These people saved her!' Marcelles tried to explain. Lars frowned and looked at both of them.

'Where is she now?'

'I... don't know... She ran off...'

'Right. Take that scumbag to Doc Morbid, find the girl, and lock these two up'

'Fuck off!' Tabitha retorted. Lars adopted a threatening gaze.

'Ma'am...'

'We saved the goddamn whore and paid for a good night's rest in the motel, we ain't goin' to no grungy dungeon of yours!'

Another guard approached Ian and the merc stood up, letting the man take over the situation. 'Tabitha' Ian pleaded once more.

'This doesn't make any fucking sense!' the woman protested.

'And what're gonna do about it?' Lars asked cockily. Tabitha looked at him like she'd just been given a challenge and she just accepted it.

'No!' Ian said and approached her, putting a hand on her shoulder. 'Don't be an idiot, we don't have a choice. Let's go'

Tabitha stared at him intently for a couple of seconds and finally conceded. 'Fine. But wherever they take us, we're gonna do it there'

'Ma'am, I must inform you...'

'Can it' she interrupted. Ian wrapped his arm around Tabitha.

'Shhh, don't talk, let's just go'

They were put in separate cells.

Junktown

2161-12-26 06:47 AM

'Hey! Wake up!'

Matthew groaned and tried to shake the hand off his shoulder. The moment the woman's voice woke him up, he was assaulted by a massive headache and was now afraid that if he opens his eyes sees any light, his head will explode.

'Come on, you gotta go now'

'But I...'

He opened his eyelids just a little bit and saw Trish, an old blanket covering her naked body, waking him up. He was naked too. And they were in a bed.

And he remembered.

'Shit' he said, sitting up. They were at Trish's house.

'Saul's coming back in an hour or so, you should go now' Trish said.

'Saul...' Matthew struggled to bring about his wits. 'Your boyfriend?'

The woman nodded. Matthew slowly got out of his bed and looked around, only to find different pieces of his clothing in different corners of the room.

'Oh god, my head is gonna explode' he whined as he started collecting his clothes. Trish lied down and smiled.

'What? No comment on the sex?'

Matthew paused. Oh, yeah, the sex. Right... Damn he was drunk.

'I... couldn't possibly find the words to describe it...' Matthew tried to talk his way out of the strange situation. Trish, however, seemed to be able to look right through him.

'I bet you say that to all the girls'

Matthew got his clothes together and started dressing. 'Who's your boyfriend, by the way?'

'Saul. He's a boxer. He fights at night in a ring behind Gizmo's'

'Is he any good?'

'The best'

'Awesome' Matthew remarked bitterly. Trish chuckled once again.

'You're cute'

'And you're the player here'

She got out of the bed and took him to the door, taking a look through the window to see if anyone was about at this hour. No one was, of course.

'You're heading out today?' she asked.

'Probably' he answered plainly. The hangover and the headache did wonders to his usually shy and polite behaviour. 'Guess you won't get in trouble for this'

'Awww' she smiled and gave him a kiss. 'You're cute even when you're grumpy' she opened the door.

'Well... bye then' Matthew said awkwardly.

'Bye' Trish smiled and he left.

The night's chill still lingered in the town as Matthew slowly looked around, saw the Skumm Pitt and went there to find the way back to the Crash House.

'I just had sex with some wastelander girl' he thought. 'I should be feeling guilty'

He thought of Evelyn and he did feel guilty, but only a little bit, and that's why was concerned, but also only a little bit. In the end he decided he was just too confused right now to swallow the situation, and instead focused on the facts. What did he do last night?

He remembered meeting Dogmeat and Tycho. Then there was the fight, and that one Skull got shot in the head, and then he went to comfort the girl... He remembered feeling awkward and not knowing what to do. He also remembered Trish smiling and saying 'you're cute' a lot. Ah, so she just got laid with the confused 'cute' guy! Matt kicked the sand. He also remembered both of them drinking whiskey, then Trish giving him a flirty smile and saying 'Won't you take a lady home?' He remembered how she kissed him at the doorway, and how he, for some reason beyond him, responded with three times the passion, and was basically the one to get them both in bed. He remembered her nails in his scalp and his tongue tracing down her belly. He remembered feeling good, good beyond the sexual pleasure. He couldn't really put it to words, but it felt like he was doing something right, that he was... being normal? That wasn't the word he was looking for. Damn, and Evelyn... Goddamn it, why can't he hear her voice inside his head scolding him? Why can't he hear -his- voice scolding himself for being unfaithful? Unfaithful? That wasn't what he was... he was...

He was tired and the confusing thoughts in his aching head were killing him. He needed to sleep, right now.

'How can I help you?' the young woman behind the Crash house counter asked as he walked in.

'I've got a room here with two of my friends, a cocky merc chick and a smartass caravan guard'

'Oh... they got arrested last night...'

'Serves them right. Which room is it?'

'This one...' she pointed her finger at Ian and Tabitha's room, confused. Matthew grunted something approximating a thank you, went into the room and literally crashed into the bed, sleep taking over him quickly as various bits of last night swam before his eyes. The last thing he remembered before falling asleep were her breasts. They were awesome.

Junktown

2161-12-26 11:23 AM

'So we found Sinthia and your story checked out. Even the damn scum who attacked her told the same thing; I believe the man's out of his mind. So... you're free to go'

Killian Darkwater, the slow-tempered sandy-haired mayor of Junktown and owner and proprietor of Darkwaters General Store, had Ian and Tabitha brought to his store in the morning, after a night of incarceration. Though Killian ran the town, his own place was a room by the store, which wasn't the tiniest bit more luxurious than other houses in town, only a bit bigger, like a proper store. That spoke volumes about the authority of the town.

Ian, still wearing Matt's vault jumpsuit, was the understanding one of the two.

'It's okay, mayor. Good to see justice being carried out properly these days'

Tabitha, still wearing her coat and just her coat, was the sulky pissed one.

'You could've let us share a cell though' she said bitterly.

Killian sighed. 'There's protocol to be followed, ma'am. But, as a way of saying sorry for the incarceration and thank you for saving Sinthia, why don't you let me pay for your stay and supplies to get you to the Hub?'

Killian, of course, knew all about their plans; his men questioned the two half the night: where are they from, where are they going, their purpose of staying, and the maiden name of their aunt.

'You've got a deal' Tabitha said, still massively pissed off.

'Great. And if you want anything from the store, I'd be happy to give you a discount...'

'Awesome' Tabitha said, still pissed, turned around, and started checking out the tables, which had a little bit of everything on them.

'I'm sorry about her attitude' Ian said. 'She's just a natural trouble-maker'

'Well, as long as she behaves... You haven't done anything wrong yet...'

'Really? Seems to me like you think so' Tabitha said quietly, rummaging through the stuff. Ian rolled his eyes. Out in the corner of his eye he saw an African-American man in a red t-shirt walking slowly into the store.

'Well, then, if you don't mind, we'll be out of your hair...'

'Gizmo sends his regards!' the new arrival in the red t-shirt suddenly exclaimed, suddenly drawing his gun and pointing it at Killian. Both men were caught by surprise. Tabitha whipped her head around, and, without wasting a moment, grabbed the nearest thing to her hand on the table, a motorcycle helmet, and threw it at the man. The assailant raised his hands in defence, and the helmet bounced off. However, he wasn't pointing his gun at the mayor now, and Ian used this to close in on him, while Tabitha moved closer to Killian. Ian grabbed the gun in the man's hand, but he didn't let go. The mercenary put his leg behind the assailant's and pushed, making him fall over, but he still didn't move his gun, which was now pointed at the door. The man grabbed Ian by his wrist and pulled him on himself, quickly rolling around and pushing Ian to the ground, trying to push the gun so it would point at the mercenary's face. Killian drew his gun, and Tabitha, having noticed the move, quickly snatched it.

'What...'

Tabitha fell on one knee and aimed at the man's head.

'You gotta be careful with the trajectory' she replied coldly. Though the men were thrashing, having the assailant's head in the same horizontal line as the gun guaranteed she wouldn't hit Ian.

The gun fired, piercing the man's throat and piercing straight through the makeshift wall. The man's eyes bulged in shock. Ian quickly shook him off and snatched the gun, jumping on his legs and pointing it at him. The man was lying on the ground, his hand on his throat, the bleeding of which was unstoppable.

'He's done for' Tabitha stated plainly, standing up and giving Killian back his gun. Ian watched the man's eyes slowly close and his twitching seize. Two guards ran into the store; one of them was Lars.

'You two again?' he growled.

'Stand down, Lars, they saved my hide' Killian calmed the angry guard. 'Guess I owe you thanks yet again'

Lars was still looking hostile, especially since Tabitha was staring straight at him as if asking if he had a problem. Lars broke the stare and looked down at the dead body.

'Another one of Gizmo's assassins?' he asked. 'Shit, we gotta do something about that bastard'

'He does this often?' Ian inquired.

'From time to time, yes' Killian replied. 'He's rich and influential, and if it wasn't for me he'd be running his town'

Ian looked down at the body. Tabitha shook her head.

'No'

Ian looked back at Killian.

'It's a nice place you've got here... what do you need in order to book that fucker?'

'I guess a confession... on a tape would do, like planting a bug in his office or wearing one when he confesses... You think you could help us with that?'

'These people are new in town' Lars butt in, 'they can pretend to be assassins for hire and ask him for a job. If he says yes, he's as good as dead. They've only been to the Crash House and the Jail, he wouldn't know better if they told him they just arrived today'

Ian gave Tabitha a pleading look. She was visibly irritated.

'What does it pay?' she asked, crossing her hands on her chest.

'Anything from the store' Killian replied, maintaining his sleepy demeanour, though the upturned edge of his lip suggested he was quite excited, by his own standards at least. 'A full kit of medical equipment, new guns with enough ammo, or armour, just name it'

'What do you say?' Ian asked. Tabitha rolled her eyes.

'Fine' she conceded. 'But we'll have to agree on that later, if we're going to do this, the best time is now' Ian smiled seeing the cold business-like Tabitha return. 'Just gives us the bug, we'll change, and go there, every second we waste gives him time to learn about us and makes our story less believable. I would, however, like you to tell me about this casino and any ways to escape should the worse come to worst'

Ian was grinning. He loved that incredibly cold wasteland chick.

Junktown

2161-12-26 11:49 AM

The sound of Ian and Tabitha barging into their room at the Crash House woke him up. Thankfully, the headache had subsided considerably. But the moment he woke up he felt disgust.

'Hey' Tabitha said without any expression in her voice as she came in and quickly wiggled out of her coat. Ian was somewhat surprised to see Matthew continue to stare at the ceiling while Tabitha walked around the room naked, looking for her clothes.

'I'm sorry I burrowed the jumpsuit again' Ian said, taking it off. Matthew gave a quiet grunt and kept staring at the ceiling. Tabitha put on her bra and underwear and looked at the ragged man on the bed.

'You look like shit. Wanna take your clothes off before you go to bed?'

Matthew grunted.

'We're going to get evidence to lock up Gizmo' Ian said casually. 'You wanna come?'

Matthew grunted and kept staring at the ceiling.

'Okay' Ian said, somewhat concerned about Matthew.

The two finished putting their clothes on and Ian took out the 'bug' which was a fist-sized tape recorder.

'Put it in a pocket?' he asked.

'Nah' Tabitha replied, snatching it from his hands, unbuttoning the top few buttons of her coat, and squeezing it in between her breasts. Ian chuckled. 'Thank god for my perky tits'

Ian's chuckle grew to a full-scale laughter.

'So how do we do this?' Ian asked once he calmed down.

'You stay behind for now, I'll approach him myself. If it doesn't work, we still don't know each other. You should probably talk to Marcelles and make sure he doesn't say anything... and move out of the room. For all intents and purposes, we don't know each other' Ian nodded. 'I'll go to Gizmo's right now'

'Could you stop by the Skumm Pitt on your way?' Matthew suddenly asked, his voice rough. 'I left my dog there'

'You have a dog?' Ian asked.

'Yeah, apparently' Matthew replied, closed his eyes, and rolled on his side. 'Thanks'

Ian and Tabitha gave each other confused looks and slowly left the room.

As soon as he was alone in the room, Matthew opened his eyes and sighed. In these few minutes he understood a couple of things he didn't understand this morning, and he wasn't enjoying that. The conclusions he made were 'You're a cheating asshole' and 'You egomaniac'.

Ever since Shady Sands Matthew relied on Ian and Tabitha for survival. Aside from the time he treated Ian after the mantis attack, he never really did anything, just rode on their skills. He was completely reliant on them. A better man would just accept and say 'thank you' instead of arguing over things he didn't know, like wasteland life. But Matthew never really appreciated it. No, he fucked the first woman he could get just to prove to himself that there were things he could do by himself. That was the truth, that was the reason he did it: he fucked Trish so he could prove to himself that he can still function without his companions, he probably destroyed all he had with Evelyn just to stop his ego from deflating; he knew he'll never be able to touch her until he confesses what he did, and she probably won't want to touch him ever again when he does. So he was a selfish cheating asshole. Selfish cheating asshole.

Matthew winced 'I wish I could turn you off' he thought, referring to his brain. He looked around the room. The window was open, illuminating the dust in the room made of makeshift materials: makeshift walls, a few completely different chairs by a table, which was a flat piece of wood on a couple of small concrete blocks. The room was admittedly maybe the nicest one he's seen in Junktown, but he was still disgusted just looking at it. He was disgusted looking at the dust flying about in the sun. He was disgusted looking at the sky. He was disgusted feeling the blanket on his bare hand. He was disgusted with the air he breathed. He was disgusted at himself, first and foremost, and it was this feeling, and not the hangover, that rendered him physically unable to get up from the bed.

He spotted Tabitha's backpack by the bed, and stretched his arm to fetch it. Feeling too lazy get the other from under him, he rummaged through the stuff with one hand until he found a bottle. He took it out. Whiskey.

'It's probably not helping' he thought as he took several gulps straight from the bottle. 'But the thought that I'm drinking is. The rest will be found at the bottom of the bottle'


	8. Jumpsuit, Part Two

A/N: I don't own any rights to Fallout.

* * *

><p>'Wow, kid... for a pacifist you drink... well... a lot'<p>

Yeah, so he wasn't the most silver-tongued person in Junktown, but at least that made the young man in the bed crack a smile when he opened his eyes, which at least indicated he wasn't hopelessly drunk.

'Wow, the room doesn't look so shitty anymore' Matthew mumbled, sitting up in the bed, maybe half an hour after finishing the whisky and dozing off. Tycho was observing him with a somewhat amused look while Dogmeat panted and wiggled its tail by the bed.

'Hey, you got my fucking mutt!' Matthew laughed patting the dog on the top of its bed. 'How did you find me?'

'I met this girl by Gizmo's, she asked me about Dogmeat and pointed me your way'

'Betty. She's awesome. She's gonna go and make Gizmo confess something about killing something to a tape...'

Tycho raised an eyebrow. Clearly the young man was still drunk.

'How many did you drink?' Tycho asked, a small smile on his features as he observed the drunken youth.

'Just Betty's stash... what, two whiskeys... maybe... hell, I don't know, don't ask me that, it's just silly' the young man lied back down and closed his eyes. Dogmeat jumped on top of him and lied down, the vault dweller stroking the mutt absent-mindedly.

'What's up?' Tycho asked plainly.

'Life's good' the vault dweller replied. Tycho's eyelids narrowed.

'Are you sure?'

'Y'know what?' Matthew slurred, opening is eyes slightly and looking at Tycho, 'Things finally make some sense, first fucking time in a fucking long fucking time... fuck'

'Yeah? Tell me about it' the ranger asked. The younger man closed his eyes and giggled.

'Thanks for bringing Dogmeat back, Tycho. Good night'

On the outside, not a muscle on the ranger's face seemed to move, but on the inside, he got a very, very strange feeling in his gut.

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-12-26 12:20 PM

Tabitha slowly twisted her hair into a bun that she wrapped with a piece of old cloth. All around her various visitors to Junktown were enjoying the drinks, games, and female company provided by the owner of the place, Gizmo, who, as she had just learned, was in his office right on the other side of the door she was looking at.

She didn't go in just now, though she probably should have. She wanted to enjoy the moment.

The room was full with chatter of winners and losers, the spinning of roulettes, and the clicking of casino chips. It was a loud white noise, one that does not and will not ever mean anything, one that surrounds you and engulfs you, one that you feel most lonesome in.

Tabitha's face was unreadable at that moment, devoid of any expression just like her mind was devoid of thoughts and feelings. But somewhere in there, maybe underneath or maybe in-between, there was a small, barely perceptible taste of content, which existed because nothing else did. She enjoyed these moments, and this moment specifically, no matter how much shit she could talk about casinos.

'I wanna speak to your boss about his recent attempt to assassinate Killian Darkwater'

The guard at the door might have been intimidated by the cold-eyed woman, or maybe by the fact that she knew such a dangerous thing about his boss and looked like she could prove it. In any case, the mercenary quickly found herself at the other side of the door, facing the head player of Junktown and his guard.

Gizmo was a shapeless slab of fat, plain and simple, some alien blob sitting on an exquisite-looking chair behind a table. Bald, pale, and fat. His eyes, however, seemed malicious. Tabitha was looking forward to killing him. Gizmo's guard was an African-American man in spiked metal armour and brandished what looked like a sawed-off shotgun on his hip, an unsightly and under-maintained thing, though considering that and the hard stare of the man this was probably a back-up weapon, the man's probably a martial artist. Maybe it was just because she was untypically slow and melancholic, but the woman wasn't tense or worried at all, though her mission here was a very subtle matter.

Later she'd realise she'd stood in the casino for all these minutes just to build herself up to that.

'What's this I hear about me trying to kill Killian?' Tabitha expected a man as fat as him to have a nasal voice and wheeze a lot, but Gizmo's dry voice spat words quickly and with determination and obvious malice.

'Your assassin was slow-witted enough to mention your name while attempting to kill the mayor' Tabitha replied calmly. 'I assumed you'd like some professional services.'

Gizmo's eyes narrowed.

'Now why would I do something so unlawful?'

'Okay, let's say, just -say-, that you need to get Killian out of the picture so you could run your business, and the town, the way you want to. And let's say that you -did- hire that man in a red t-shirt to kill Killian.'

'Yes, let's say, hypothetically, that I did. What's your point?'

'The man failed. And now that Killian just barely escaped death, he is bound to go all out against you. I'd say that a man in a situation that I described would be wise to get rid of his enemy as soon as possible, -and- as efficiently as possible.'

'And you would offer such a man your services?'

'I've been around, I've killed before.' Tabitha replied and a small grin appeared on her face, lacing the following statement with honey, and, as she hoped, professionalism. 'And let me tell you, Killian's an easy target, what with these makeshift walls and numerous entry points to any place he chooses to hide in.'

Gizmo lied back in his chair, grinning.

'I see... That is an interesting hypothetical model you have there.' Gizmo stated and Tabitha had to restrain herself so a devious smile wouldn't bloom on her face. 'But that would be against the law, and I am no criminal, miss.'

Tabitha's heart dropped.

'Actually...' the casino owner leaned closer and continued, 'As a dutiful citizen I should probably inform Killian that there's an assassin in town, hiring herself to the highest bidder'

The mercenary's mind raced to find a way out of this situation.

'What do you have to say to that?' Gizmo prompted, grinning deviously. Words cannot describe how much she wanted to jump over that table and punch his teeth in.

'I guess... Mister Darkwater would then have to ask you exactly why these assassins, who have just rolled into town, know where to go looking for jobs. I mean, he just narrowly escaped an assassin, who told him, quote, 'Gizmo sends his regards', and here you come strolling by turning in potential killers and explaining how unlawful you think killing is. I don't believe the mayor is mentally handicapped. He's not going to thank you and invite you for a drink on him.'

Awesome, now the shapeless chunk of lard was frowning and glaring angrily at her.

'I run a casino, miss.' Gizmo said with venom in his voice. 'I already know things like that. I suggest that you vacate the premises of my establishment and do not return, while I figure out who and why has been spreading such outrageous rumours about me and deal with it appropriately'

'Very well. Sir.' She turned around and, right before walking out the door, she turned back added, 'I'll be around when you come to your senses.'

Left alone, Gizmo turned to his body guard, Izo.

'What do you think about her?' the casino owner asked. The man shook his head. 'I thought so too. Keep an eye on her.'

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-12-26 12:35 PM

'Botched it' Tabitha reported quietly as she threw herself on the bed. Matthew slowly opened his eyes and cupped his forehead.

'Oh, great, consciousness, thanks.'

'Have you...' Tabitha jumped up, picked up the empty bottles from the floor, and read the labels. 'Sonuvabitch, you've been drinkin' my good whisky!'

Matthew groaned and turned on his side, hoping to get some more sleep. Tabitha threw her hands in the air.

'Wonderful.'

Matthew woke up another half an hour later, and found Tabitha kneeling in front of the door, picking its lock.

'What're you doing?'

'Trying to see if I can pick these.' She replied without any expression.

'A lock? Why?'

'Why? Because Ian and I are, for some reason, trying to help the town's mayor book the casino's owner, and since we blew our first plan, we'll probably need to break into his office at night and plant the bug.'

'Oh...' Matthew sat up in the bed and rubbed his face. His head was about to split in two.

Oh, and the guilt...

As soon as he sat up in the bed the guilt returned to him, cramping his muscles once more.

'How are you doing?' He asked, theorizing that conversation would help him stop thinking about it.

'Shitty' she replied. 'Wherever it is Junktown got its doors, it was from three or four places, and the doors in the motel are the same as in the casino. The lock's too complicated for me to open, though...'

'Let me try' He stood up, approached her, and took her tools, driving them into the small keyhole.

'You can... oh, right, your thief-like medical training'

Matthew wiggled around the lock for several minutes, and then, with a small click, the door was unlocked.

'Wow.' Tabitha said, surprised. 'Given the circumstances, I won't even call bullshit on a vaultie being a better lock-pick than I am.' She smiled mischievously. 'Although that means that you're breaking into the casino tonight.'

Matthew stood up and took another look at the lock-picking tools, which were maybe a million times better than his own: a bobby pin and screwdriver.

'Fine.' He replied plainly. The thing could be dangerous, but Matthew wasn't that concerned about it. It might be wrong, but that didn't give him pause. He was empty again, an emotionless, thoughtless pile of flesh and blood, and that, under other circumstances, would make his question himself once he snapped out of it. This time, however, he just accepted it, knowing that the alternative - rolling around the bed feeling miserable - would be a lot worse.

Oh, and his theory was right: he didn't feel like shit while talking and doing stuff instead of lying down and thinking about it. He remembered someone saying, back in the vault, that 'in order to stop feeling bad, find some other way to feel'. He just understood what it means.

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-12-26 11:34 PM

Did he just smile? He thought about it. Yeah, he probably did. He smiled. It felt good. It also felt like if he had a gun he would put a bullet in his own brain. It was a strange kind of feeling good.

Tycho came back here earlier today. Apparently, Matthew said something about Ian and Tabitha's plan to get Killian the evidence to book Gizmo. He remembered Tabitha glaring at the old ranger like she was thinking where it would hurt the most to stab, and her hand slowly travelling to the pistol holstered on her hip when Tycho laughed and said he was here to help.

He smiled again. Tycho was badass. A bit old and slow, but still badass. It was good to know he was on their side. He grinned. He had some good people by his side. It's a good thing they're not here, looking at him standing in the middle of the motel room in the dark with his eyes closed and grinning. If they were here, he'd probably end up having to walk to the Hub alone, following the trail of the people who left him once they realized he was insane.

'I am insane' he mouthed the words in the dark and smiled.

It was common knowledge that Tycho was no friend to the Skullz, and it was probably common knowledge in the gang that Tabitha was someone to keep an eye on, so the two simply went to get a drink at the Skum Pitt together, close enough to the Casino to make the bastards feel uncomfortable and watch them closely, ironically making them watch the Casino less closely. Ian was somewhere else, preparing for tonight. They're supposed to go in together, just like that, with no plan up their sleeves. Of course, that didn't sit well with the caravan guard, and he left the room in order to find some sort of an edge. The vault dweller smiled again. Old reliable Ian.

'I am insane' he mouthed the words in the dark and smiled, again, happy to feel anything, -anything-, but like a worthless, incompetent, backstabbing piece of shit.

The door slowly opened and Ian poked his head in, squinting in order to see anything in the dark.

'Matt?' he called out quietly.

'Yeah?' the vault dweller stepped to the door so the light from the reception area would make him visible to his... comrade.

'Let's go' Ian motioned. Matthew stepped out of the room and followed him towards the casino.

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-12-26 11:44 PM

It's been a couple of whiskeys and poker games with random patrons of the Skum Pitt already when Tycho and Tabitha were left alone at their table.

'Here's one for our brave soldiers' Tabitha proposed a toast with that happy-thanks-to-whisky smile of hers. Tycho returned the smile in kind. Nice, another man to get along fine with.

'So, speaking of soldiers...' Tycho started, 'What's the deal with Matthew? I mean, he loathes killing even though he's been travelling with the two of you for... how long?'

'Not long.' Tabitha replied plainly.

'Okay... so he... lied to me about that, huh?'

Tabitha took a small sip of her drink, her face now almost all business-like. -Almost- because she had a half-full glass of whisky under her nose.

'I bet he did. He does that. Because he should.'

'You're not giving me an answer too, right?'

Tabitha shook her head, 'He asked me not to.'

'Should I be concerned?'

'Only because of his lack of skill.'

Ismarc walked into the bar with sleepy eyes and crow's feet. Neal threw him a mischievous smile while the singer simply sighed the way artists used to before the war and went back to his place at the corner of the bar. Tabitha found the whole scene incredibly sweet.

'This is my kind of town.' she stated with a sigh, not unlike what Ismarc just did. 'If the local police weren't assholes I'd definitely settle.'

'I'm concerned about Matthew.' Tycho refused to stray from the subject.

'He's okay,' the woman replied half-heartedly, 'He's just going through all that first-kill-at-twenty-something kiss-the-flower-and-puke-out-rainbows stuff.'

'He had sex with the waitress last night and I think he's feeling guilty about that.'

Tabitha's eyebrows shot up so high they almost took off of her face.

'With that... Matt... Well I'll be a sonuvabitch!' She rose her glass of whisky as if toasting, but was somewhat put down by Tycho's serious expression.

'He's struggling, and it's going bad.' The ranger said plainly. Tabitha put down her glass, excitement rubbed away from her face as if it was never there. She didn't say anything for a couple of seconds until she was able to summon all of her merc indifference.

'Why do you care so much?' She finally asked with a frown on her face.

''Cause he's a good guy,' Tycho replied plainly. 'We rangers weren't brought up to kill without batting an eyelid, but most of us still grow indifferent about it. I know I did. And I know most don't care anymore. I can kill and not care, Matt can't. He's just... I don't know how to put it...'

'He's not you.'

Tycho was staring at Ismarc intently, as if the tired singer was going to tell him a way to make the wasteland a green and verdant place again.

'No.' Tycho finally said, slowly. 'But I care.'

'He's... had a cradled upbringin'. He doesn't know better. You came here from... Nevada, you said? You know better about life out there.'

'You're right, I do. So I know what a virtue he has.'

'A worthless one.' Tabitha replied bluntly and motioned Trish for another glass.

'Ah, you gonna drink some more?' A nasal, mocking voice came from behind her. She turned around and saw four people, gangers by their outfits and the way they held themselves: close to each other.

'Yeah.' The woman replied as defiantly as she could, which was very. 'What's it to you.'

'Y'know, the drink's on me, doll. Or maybe you'd like to go over to my place and raid my stash. And my other stash.' He said, groping his own crotch. The gangers laughed.

'Nah, I don't want your playground buddies to watch, and I don't think you kids are seperable.'

The ganger frowned. 'You tryin'a say somethin', bitch?'

Tycho tensed in his seat. Some of the gangers had their eyes on him and he decided against inching for the knife in his boot, confident he could deal with anything with his fists.

Tabitha stood up. 'I am.' She stated plainly. 'You came here to fuck with me, not fuck me, and if you wanna start shit quit being a pathetic pussy and get on with it so you can get your balls kicked up to your mouth by a woman.'

The ganger did just that, suddenly lunging forward. Tabitha was expecting just that, and with a simple matter of pulling his hand while placing her foot on his leg threw him flat on the table. Tycho jumped up with speed seemingly impossible for his age, and right-hooked a ganger in the jaw. Another one jumped on him from behind and put him in a headlock. Tabitha in the meantime approached the third ganger, a chick with a rusty blunt knife, and unsheathed hers.

'This really the way you wanna die, bitch?' The merc smirked confidently, succeeding in irritating the ganger enough to jump on her.

Tycho elbowed the ganger on top of him in the ribs three times, just enough for his grip to weaken and allow the ranger to escape. He punched the Skull who was standing up from the table in the face and turned around to face the one who just put him in the hold. The ganger was now brandishing a knife.

Without batting an eyelash, the ranger evaded a stab, grabbed the man's hand, and hit his elbow with the backside of his wrist just enough for the raider to scream in pain and drop the knife, upon which the ranger punched the ganger in the face two times, enough to throw him to the ground disoriented.

He turned around and saw Tabitha punching the Skull who started this whole mess in the face repeatedly, and noticed that the chick with the knife was lying down on the floor, clutching her stomach with blood-soaked hand, blood dripping from her mouth. The fight was over, and it was only a matter of time until the chick kicked the bucket.

Tabitha took a second while regaining her composure to notice Ismarc looking at him disinterestedly, and Neal looking at the field of the battle without an expression, his pistol in his hand. Trish was standing next to him, wearing the same face of indifference.

'Are we gonna get booked now?' Tabitha asked with a smirk on her face, adrenalin still coursing through her. Neal shrugged.

'For a bar fight? No guard here is zealous enough to do anything more than ask some questions on the spot and tell the involved parties to go home. A bar fight's nothing new.'

Tabitha smirked, walked up to Trish, downed the glass of whisky meant for her still in her hand, and turned to Tycho, who was standing next to her, completely calm, with his hands crossed on his chest.

'Go now?' The merc asked.

'Yeah, just let me help Neal throw them out.'

Tabitha liked this place.

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-12-27 00:04 AM

'So... there's nothing protecting his place except fear of Gizmo?' Matthew asked quietly while picking the lock to Gizmo's office in the empty dark casino with Ian pointing his flashlight at him.

'Pretty much.' Was his short answer.

'Why's this place closed up, the night is still young?'

'Business tactics. Hiring people every night costs a lot of money, so he does it every three nights or so. Instead of having a moderate amount of costumers each night he opens it every third night and everyone comes at once. It's cost-efficient.'

'He's pretty savvy businessman for a criminal asshole.'

'And you don't know enough to stay quiet when breaking into some criminal asshole's place.'

The lock clicked and the door opened. Matthew threw Ian a smile. 'Sorry'.

The two men entered Gizmo's office. Matthew almost whistled upon seeing the fancy ancient desk and the kingly seat of the casino's owner.

'Fancy.' He said quietly, earning another angry glare from Ian.

It was strange: he was here in the proverbial belly of the beast and instead of fretting was in the mood for some careless chatter. If he would've looked inside himself this moment he would be surprised what basic feeling existed inside him that moment: it was just apathy at first, but then grew into carelessness laced with pure technical perfection in the way he carried out his task. Looking inside of him that moment Matthew would have felt like a true mercenary.

They planted the bug under Gizmo's chair with some duct tape and left the office, Ian holding the flashlight again while he locked the door behind them.

And, of course, here it was; he sound of footsteps nearing the main casino hall from one of the rooms. The lock clicked at that precise moment, and Matthew, without his heart even jumping up or bloodstream getting a shot of adrenaline, ducked behind a craps table while Ian hid behind a row of slot machines. An inebriated Skull soon entered the room, and, thankfully, without turning a light on, headed straight to the bar and snatched some booze, something Gizmo would surely protest, he vault dweller thought for some reason.

However, instead of heading back, the Skull started walking right up to the craps table Matt was hiding under. The vault dweller inched back a bit, his breath becoming shallower and biting his lower lip. That wasn't panic, though, the young thief was simply being rationally cautious.

The Skull stood right by the table. Matthew didn't close his eyes, just stared at the ganger's feet in the twilight. He soon hear the click of dice, and saw the man walk away from the table with the dice in his hand. The Skull returned to the room and shut the door behind him, leaving the two thieves in darkness again.

While Ian inched back to Matthew, the younger man couldn't help but smile. He didn't see any threat in what just happened, he just felt an emotionless flow of events, each with an optimal solution he would have to apply in order to succeed. It was pure mechanics, no emotions. And it felt so good.

He locked the main door to the casino, lit by street lamps, his outlaw activity visible from far away. He didn't worry, though: this part was all on Lady Luck and no amount of fretting could change that.

As he retreated into the dark alleys of Junktown after Ian, the vault dweller took a moment to take in the serene night air and the feeling of accomplishment.

He looked inside of him, and at that moment, and felt like a true mercenary.

That felt like the solution to everything.

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-12-27 03:34 PM

It took until the late afternoon for Killian and a small group of the most respected people in Junktown to finally hear the deciding words though the small receiver.

'There are strange people around town, Mister... Doug.' The receiver conveyed the words. 'I need these people dead. And I want someone to have another go at Killian. Even if it doesn't kill him, it'll provide enough of a distraction for us to take care of these... unpredictable variables.'

Lars was immediately told to go the Crash House and inform the new comrades of the Law of Junktown.

She woke up that morning with a hangover, aching muscles, and small itchy cuts the ganger bitch managed to make last night. Upon waking up she saw Lars, that disagreeable guard she kind-of-hated.

'We got him.' Was Lars's brief report. 'Killian wants to meet you all in an hour at the store.'

Tabitha nodded and the man politely left the room. She heard someone slowly getting up from the next bed in the room, but didn't want to get up herself, so she turned on the other side and tried to get some sleep.

Her eyes opened ever so slightly to reveal the face of Matthew sleeping next to her.

That was uncomfortable...

...But sure as hell not unwelcome.

She took a good look at the young man's face. He was a bit frowning in his sleep, he probably has to deal with all that new-to-the-wastes shit even in his sleep...

And here goes her sympathy kicking in, for the first time in a long time!

She shook those thoughts away as she always did and got up from the bed, a sucky start to what's probably going to be a sucky day. Goddamnit she needed a cigarette.

There were three beds in the room and she happened to crash in the one that was occupied. By Matt, no less. Ian was the one who was up, and Tycho slowly tried to wake himself up. He had as bad a hangover as she did. For a moment she considered dragging Ian out for a smoke with her so the conversation would quiet down the intolerable feelings, but decided against it: the smartass will have figured it out by the second word she'd say. She smoked alone.

Tycho finally woke up, cupping his injured jaw, and Matthew woke up the last, slowly getting up from the bed and getting dressed. Tycho watched him the whole time, looking for any indication as to how he was feeling. He seemed... just tired. Physically, maybe a bit mentally too. And a bit indifferent. He finished dressing up and gave Tycho and expressionless look.

'Got in a fight?' His voice was devoid of emotion too.

'Yeah. Skullz.'

'Iced it?'

'Where would I get ice just past midnight?'

'There wasn't any at the bar?'

'Why would there be?'

Matthew made a small paused and stated with a small smirk, 'God the world's backwards these days.'

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-12-27 04:42 PM

'Ah, you're here!' Killian gave them a lazy smile as they filed into the store. Lars and other two guards were in the store in addition to the two outside.

'You got him?' Tabitha asked plainly.

'We sure did, thanks to you.'

'Then our job here is done.'

'Well... I was thinking you'd like to kick him out of town with us? There's caps in it for you...'

Tabitha didn't need to turn around to see the pleading expression on Ian's face.

'Fine.' Tabitha replied plainly again. 'I wanted to kill him as soon as I saw him.'

'Hey now, we only kill him if he doesn't leave peacefully.' Killian's voice was still calm even though his look said he was somewhat agitated.

'He won't. He's not the wasteland type and he knows it. Let us just collect our guns and we can head up there.'

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-12-27 05:02 PM

It was hard at that moment for the vault dweller not to feel like a full-blown merc. There was eight of them headed towards Gizmo's.

Killian wore his usual dirty shirt and pants, and carried a nasty-looking .223 FMJ. Lars and the other guards wore identical sets of plain leather armour and carried assault rifles in their hands. Tycho and Tabitha were in their trench-coats, and Tabitha looked like an amateur next to Tycho in his almost colourless coat. She was brandishing the shiny City-Killer, he was carrying a seemingly vintage assault rifle with a wooden stock. Ian, in his usual blue jeans and black leather jacket looked mean with his 10mm SMG in his hand. And finally, there was Matthew clad in black leathers and carrying Tabitha's .44 and in his hand and the 10mm on his hip. His rational side tried to tell him he looked like an amateur, but the other side of him was riding on the mean-gang-of-sons-of-bitches high and he saw himself as some sort of a cowboy/gambler/specialist, a cool dude with a draw quicker than his own shadow. He felt good in the large posse of eight armed, dangerous, and thirsty for blood. Walking up the path to Gizmo's he noticed some of the Junktown's townsfolk watching their march, all workers. He remembered thinking, right after leaving Shady Sands, that he would be content to stay outside and live his life as the local doctor in some backwater. Right now, he felt compelled to live by the gun, to be a merc, and to wander the wastes. Didn't Tabitha mention something like that once? Was it called 'wander-lust'? Yeah, he probably had that.

A small voice inside himself suddenly spoke up. It reminded him that killing people is wrong. He countered it with Killian's statement that they're only going to kill the ones who don't give up. And even then, they're criminal scum, they almost raped Trish that night! The voice then reminded him of his mission, the vault, and how much he's changed since then.

That gave him pause.

He sure as hell wasn't the same as when he left the vault three weeks ago. He had killed. He had wandered. He had cut and cooked mutant mole-rats. Things would never be the same back home. Especially not with Evelyn now that he'd...

'Enough of that!' He scolded himself. 'You've got a duty here!'

That kind of worked. So he had changed. He had to deal with it. And at that moment, the best way to deal with it seemed to be to embrace it. Tabitha was right, he was wrong. He knows nothing about the wastes, and she does. The callous bitch was right. He accepted that.

'Everyone! Get out!' Lars barked loudly as soon as they entered the casino. The few patrons, their eyes now wide, slowly left the building, but stopped to stare right outside: something big was going down.

'You are now under arrest!' Killian exclaimed to the Skullz in the room. Come with us peacefully!'

The gangers hesitantly put down their guns and the two guards led them out. The room next to Gizmo's office, the one the ganger came out of last night when Matthew and Ian were breaking into the casino, had some more Skullz in them, and Tabitha led them out of the casino, merged with the first group of the arrested, and took them to the jail, grunting that she won't be able to shoot the fat fuck in the head.

Killian, Ian, Tycho, Matthew, and Lars entered the office. Gizmo was there, grinning from behind his table, determination in his eyes. The silent guard Izo was there, as well as another guard with a 10mm Pistol in his hand.

'You're under arrest, Gizmo! Come with us peacefully!' There was authority and a bit of anger in Killian's voice, and that surprised even Tycho, who knew the mayor pretty well.

'Ah, Killian!' Gizmo seemed almost happy to see him. 'So it's finally come to this? Fine. This will decide it then.' And, with speed that surprised the lawmen, he raised a .44 Magnum Pistol from under his table and pointed it at the mayor. The guard with the pistol pointed it at Ian and Lars, and Izo was suddenly a foot away from Matthew.

All hell broke out as the guard, Ian, and Lars fired their guns at once. Matthew was about to aim at Gizmo as Izo closed in, but he still made the shot. He missed, but the bullet hitting the wall right next to the casino owner's head fucked up his aim as well and his bullet missed Killian. He didn't see that, though, on account of Izo's fist connecting with his jaw thanks to his last minute reflex to turn his head and not get his nose punched in. He immediately brought up his hands to his face to protect himself and only barely managed not to fall over. Though his vision started swimming immediately, he was still aware of Tycho suddenly standing next him, trying to drive the butt of his rifle to Izo's stomach, only to have it grabbed and jerked from him by the guard. He was aware that Gizmo was face-down on his table, and Tycho was wrestling with Izo for a few seconds before the guard's brains painted the door. He fell on his knees, darkness spreading through his vision.

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-12-27 11:37 PM

'To us!' Tabitha toasted in that content, almost-happy voice of hers. She was even smiling a little, and the three men in the room brought their glasses to hers, cheering.

Matthew barely opened his mouth and poured in the whisky, immediately bringing the towel soaked in cold water to his cheek. As he said, the world was backwards: the local doctor, some prick called Morbid, charged him fourty-five caps for a bag of ice to put on his messed up jaw, so he decided to use wet towels instead.

It was dark outside and people in the room were happier than he'd seen them... well, ever. They were even smiling, at least Tabitha tried to, and Tycho's smile was a small one by nature. Ian was the hero of the day, the one who shot that guard with the pistol, then Gizmo, and then Izo. Lars was shot in the shoulder by that nameless guard, and Killian managed to get out unscathed, just like Tycho. Tabitha wasn't as pissed off about not participating in the climatic showdown as he thought she would, so the night was pretty pleasant.

'Okay, so tell me what happened in the again, chronologically and without being cocky.' Tabitha asked as she elbowed Ian playfully on the side. The three of them were sitting on the chairs next to the table and Matthew was sitting on the bed, his back to the wall, Dogmeat sleeping next to him just like he did all day when it was left behind. Ian started recounting the events that transpired in that office, but Matthew's attention broke almost immediately and he stared out to the dark sky absent-mindedly.

This place felt like home to him all of a sudden. Shady Sands was a good place too, but it felt... incomplete, a bit off. But Junktown... it was a heap of rubbish, but it was quaint and... And admittedly it was probably where he sort-of found himself, where he decided on a path he'd follow in his life: that of a merc.

His mind stopped him right there, reminding him of his vaultie nature, his lack of skill, and his mission.

'Meh, the first two would come with practice' he thought. His mission... well, he'd have to return to the Vault in the end. He'll probably leave, though. He'll tell Evelyn he fucked some random waitress out here in this backwards mockery of the world and go right back to it. 'Yeah, that'll make her feel good.' He thought sarcastically. But he couldn't be insincere and he damn well couldn't go back to his old life, even after three weeks. He didn't really want to, too. He felt good now.

He thought back to his greatest issues with the outside world.

Killing. It was sort-of dealt with. He didn't kill anyone, and he was still somewhat repulsed by the idea, but not so much now. And the main difference was, when he was aiming to throw the grenade at the Khans he was disgusted himself at that moment, to the point of almost not going through with it. When he was aiming at Gizmo earlier, there wasn't a trace of those feelings at that moment. He didn't like the idea of killing him -now-, but he actually wanted to do it -then-. The after-even disgust will probably be gone with time as well. He recalled Tycho's words, that feeling bad about people was a virtue worth respect. Maybe he wouldn't get so accustomed to it, but he was pretty sure he could shoot a person right now, and it would be okay to feel bad afterwards, but he still had to do it if he was going to be a merc...

...Which was the second problem, his uselessness. He was a medic and he would learn to be a good fighter, it was all decided. He pondered for a moment about how he came to that decision... was right after he woke up after spending the night at Trish's? Matthew considered this for a moment and arrived to the conclusion that as soon as the world became too much for him, his mind finally got off its ass and provided him with a solution. He was more than ready to do it now, to be a merc, to dive straight into this world of desolation and violence. He needed it so he could cope. He needed it so he could survive.

'Matthew?'

Tabitha's voice broke his chain of thoughts. 'Yeah?'

'Tycho said he'd like to travel with us, to the Hub at least.'

'Oh.' Matthew liked the idea. 'The more the merrier.'

'I'm getting quite useless around here what with my basic knowledge and the relative peace.' The ranger explained. 'I'd like to be back in the road.'

'And I'd love to travel with you, Tycho.'

'Maybe there'll be work in the Hub.' Tycho continued, now having turned back to the other two at the table. 'Though I ain't looking to sign up with a caravan like the three of you.'

Matthew slowly closed his eyes and smiled, switching the hand that held the towel and his right had gotten numb. Yeah, life was good right now. Three weeks was forever, he had a lot of time, and the sky was the limit right now.

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-12-28 11:16 AM

'It fits you.' Tabitha complimented the vault dweller as he put on his set of leather armour, his piece of the reward from Killian. It was sand-coloured for camouflage, and he also got a new sand-coloured baseball cap to go with it. He decided to stay with his 10mm on his hip and a hunting rifle on his back. He liked his new look.

Ian opted for medicine, and it was of course Matthew's burden to bear. He said he was comfortable in his outfit and didn't really want to give up shooting his SMG. Tabitha, quite expectedly, opted for ammo, and netted a sizeable bag of 12 gauges. Tycho didn't want to take anything at first, but Killian convinced him to accept medicine and caps. He also gave some food to the crew and 500 caps in total for helping him with the 'Siege of Gizmo's'.

The companions wasted no time and were at the town's gate by the morning. After a brief talk with Tabitha and her vouching for the reputation of the Desert Rangers, Matthew explained his real purpose in the surface world while the four waited by the gate for the guards to finish packing up their food. Matthew gave his jumpsuit to Ian. He was not that anymore, he didn't need to be reminded of it all anymore, and he saw the jumpsuit's fate as fitting.

'That's quite a noble cause.' Tycho said finally. 'Though you never seemed too bothered by it.'

Damn it, he was right.

'It's a distant goal, and I won't win anything by fretting. Do you think I'll find it in the Hub?'

'Either you'll find it there or you won't find it at all.' Matthew was glad to hear that despite the expressed chance of failure.

Matthew looked up and saw Lars approach Ian and pat him on the back with his good hand as the guards gave them back their prepared backpacks.

'You've done well.' Lars applauded him. 'Really damn good. We'll never forget you... Vault Dweller.'

Lars took Ian's surprise as an indication that he was right, and with another pat on the back sent the comrades on their way south, Dogmeat in tow.

'Vault Dweller?' Matthew asked incredulously when they were further away from the gate.

'Yeah... I was so tempted to say it was only a role-play thing.' Ian laughed. 'I sort of jumped out of the room to save a damsel in distress with your jumpsuit on and got labelled as the Vault Dweller.'

Matthew gave him a slight chuckle. Quite symbolically, it made his parting with the vault official.

* * *

><p>Wasteland<p>

2161-12-31 03:47 AM

He kind of knew it was all fake: the grass beneath his feet, the trees. He saw them somewhere... in the place where he lived, what was it again?

But they made no sound, they had no smell, and when he would touch the grass, he wouldn't be able to feel anything.

She was there, of course, watching him from afar, and by the heartbroken look in her eyes he knew she knew.

She kept her distance from him. Like she should've. That was right, they were at different places.

'I'm sorry.' Was all he could say quietly, sitting down on the grass. This was so obviously unreal it kind of irritated him, but then again, he couldn't really tell what real looked like. There wasn't anything here: no vault, no medical training, no wasteland. Just him, her, and that awful thing he did.

'I know.' Came her reply, distant in more than just physical terms.

He had nothing more to say.

She wept.

He had nothing more to say.

'It's not because of what you did.' She said to him between the barely audible sobs. 'It's that... you're gone. You're gone.'

'I am.' He could only say. He felt his lungs shiver.

'I'll always remember you.'

'I hope I will as well.'


	9. Wasteland Interlude

A/N: I don't own Fallout.

A/N 2: Just a short chapter to describe the group after the time they spent together travelling south. It just didn't feel right to attach it to the Junktown chapters or the future Hub chapters.

* * *

><p>Matthew lined up his rifle again, his sights on the left side of the head of some raider reloading his gun. The savage was dumb enough to show his head through one of the windows of Irwin's Farm, which the four comrades were trying to retake from the wasteland ruffians. The main building was built the same way Junktown was, which meant that the raider probably didn't need to poke his head out into the open for Matthew to be able to shoot him. Once Ian cleaned his rifle and fixed it up a bit, the gun was able to shoot clean through the plywood, plaster as well, more or less.<p>

His bullet hit its mark right above the ear: the raider wasn't even trying to look outside, probably thinking Ian and Tabitha for fools who would storm the farm without any cover. Of course, the shroud of the night helped Matthew's stealth skills as well. Tycho stood near the farm's front door with his assault rifle in hand, ready to deal with any situation, while the two lovebirds entered the house, Ian suppressing the raiders with SMG bursts and Tabitha shooting them down, her powerful combat shotgun punching clean through ancient wood tables they used for defence. The old desert ranger moved into the house as raiders started pouring in from the both sides of the hallway.

More raiders appeared in the windows and Matthew aimed at one's head again.

There wasn't any pain or regret in killing the raiders. Right now, he was concentrating, he was being precise and skilful. He was a merc. And they were the scumbags who took over that poor man's farm outside of the Hub. With every one of those bastards dead the world became a better and better place... And he became more and more of a merc, more and more of a numb, emotionless killer. And he was loving it.

He saw the raider take aim before he fired so ducked and fell to the left, the bullet flying harmlessly by. He suddenly experienced a second rush of adrenaline, but it was not like that night in Shady Sands, he wasn't being cast down from his high and mighty throne: he felt bloodlust.

'He cannot see me in the night, I can. He was firing following the flash of my rifle. I am safe for now.' Matthew calmed himself and fired a shot back. The other raider in the room took aim at where he just saw the flash, but Matthew was safely out of that particular spot. Not that it mattered anyway: the raider must've been milliseconds from firing his crappy pistol when the vicious shotgun roared again the left side of the junkie's face turned to mush. Matthew took a look to the inside of the farm through the door. The main room on the other side was clear. It all seemed clear. Matthew kept his rifle pushed against his shoulder, his eye on the aim, waiting for more raiders to come with a hint of hoping and expectation.

'Clear!' He heard Tycho shout. Slowly, he lowered his rifle, strapped it on his back, and walked into the farm.

The inside was a mess, with blood, pieces of raiders, and their hole-ridden body parts everywhere. Tabitha's shotgun was very good at redecorating the surroundings in bloody red. The smell of fresh blood was quite disgusting to Matthew's sense of smell, but on his combat high he wasn't able to be bothered by it. He scanned the dead raiders wearily.

'Should we clear them up?' He asked plainly. Tycho nodded.

The moon was about to set when Matthew and Tycho dropped the last raider's corpse into a shallow grave and buried it. The ranger dropped the last bit of soil on top of the burial, sat right down next to the grave, and lit a cigarette. Matthew remained standing, supporting his tired body on a shovel they found in the shed. He could hear Ian and Tabitha scrubbing the floors inside: they wanted to spend the night in the farm with as little of the stench of death as possible. It was strange for Matthew to see Tabitha not objecting to some additional unpaid work, but, admittedly, she was in part (a large part) doing it for herself.

The vault dweller sighed wearily and sat down on the ground. Tycho was looking at the stars.

'How're you feeling?' The old ranger asked after a long silence. Matthew paused for a couple of moments and plainly replied, 'Fine.'

His eyes were fixed lazily on the dark blurry horizon. Tycho kept his eyes on the stars.

'No more difficulties killing?'

The area around the Hub, being more populous than the rest of the wasteland, also had a larger raider population, and the travellers have encountered them twice along their way south, each encounter diminishing the vault dweller's ability to feel bad about killing. He didn't miss it a bit.

'No.'

A pause.

'I see.'

'Is he judging me?' Matthew thought to himself. During the days travelling south Matthew grew to hold much respect for Tycho. He was always calm and efficient, not wasting a bullet even with an automated rifle. The idea of Tycho thinking badly about Matt was like a spit in the face from a father.

'I do feel bad afterwards.' Matthew attempted. Tycho just grunted indifferently as a response.

'You're a good marksman.' Tycho said, again after a long pause. 'Just remember the lessons: breathing, squeezing the trigger softly, and don't fire if we're between you and your target.'

'I know. I'm not dumb.'

'So I've seen.'

Back inside, Ian and Tabitha were finishing up with their cleaning. Ian lit a small fire in the antiquated stove which stood in the remains of the living room, and burnt the rags they used in cleaning. When he turned around, Tabitha was opening a bottle of vodka she found in a makeshift cupboard.

'Looting that guy's stash?' Ian asked mockingly. Tabitha shook her head.

'I bet it's the raiders'... Put that table up.'

'Um... it's riddled with holes, we should throw it out.'

Tabitha snickered. 'L.A. boy.' She said plainly, put the bottle on the ground and put the table up properly. The two of them sat down. Amazingly, all of the table's legs survived, though the table itself was now shaped like the letter C.

'Yeah, I'm a spoiled little brat.' Ian said sarcastically. 'That's why I'm damn good at walking the wastes for weeks, taking my shits in the desert, and washing up once in a season.'

'You got that right.' Tabitha said. 'I -never- wash.'

The two of them laughed. Ian looked around the room. Though the building itself was Junktown-styled, the interior was quite different, half of the furniture being salvaged, and the other half being constructed from various trash. The latter furnishings were obviously done with love and skill, and the interior was quite cosy, especially lit by the brahmin-fat candles, which gave the room a smell that made the two people feel their eyelids getting heavy.

'I want to have a place like this someday.' Ian said. 'When I retire. It looks... it looks very cosy.'

'Are you just tryin' to make me believe you -aren't- a spoiled L.A. kid?'

'Seriously, who in the wasteland could you call spoiled? Besides, you haven't been there, the settlement in the old city, Adytum, is two times smaller than the Hub, I'd be spoiled if I was from the Hub, like, one of the Hightowers.'

'Hightowers?'

'Oh... just a prominent trader family. No need to worry about them, they don't care about the comings and goings of the caravans, they just helped found some of them and are now raking in their share.'

'I see.' Tabitha smiled, took a small gulp of the vodka, and passed it on to Ian. 'And who would you settle in such a place with?' she asked with a shy smile, staring at the surface of the table. Ian snickered.

'Seriously? You, Tabitha Bleu, being shy? Now I've seen everything!'

'Hey!' Tabitha replied half-jokingly. 'This tough bitch put her reputation on the line in order to show her emotions so you better damn well appreciate it!'

Ian smile grew. 'Aw, I'm happy to hear that. Would you expect my invitation to join me on my retirement?'

'Only if we could spend the time until that together.'

'God!' Ian laughed. 'So cheesy! What's wrong with you?'

'I'm tired and sleepy, and I'm just… damn it! I'm serious, though.'

'You think I'm the kind of guy who fucks with girls without being serious about it? I'm in love with you, you dumb obnoxious woman!'

'So romantic…' Tabitha laughed. 'So… seal the deal? That guy's got many rooms in here.'

'Sure thing.' Ian grinned and the two of them proceeded to one of the rooms, bumping into returning Matthew and Tycho on the way. Dogmeat followed them inside and gave a huge yawn as soon as it entered. The two men sat down by the same table.

'Dinner?' Matthew offered. Tycho nodded and Matthew started rummaging through the cupboards, excited at the idea of preparing food with actual cooking utensils.

'Should I cook the Brahmin steaks or are those for later?'

Tycho waved his hand for the vault dweller to go ahead, and so the vaultie did, just somewhat upset by Tycho's sudden mood change, like he held a grudge against Matt. Dogmeat whimpered in its sleep under the table, and Tycho bent over to stoke it, waking it up and making it start wiggling its tail. Dogmeat's tail rhythmically hitting the floor, Matthew cutting up the stakes, and the hiss of hot oil in the pan were the only sounds to be heard in the house. Matthew frowned. No sex noises?

When Matthew finished cooking and turned around to put the steaks on the table, he found Tycho with his vault jumpsuit in his hands, observing the item with distant interest. A bit bothered, Matthew simply put the plates on the table and dug in. Tycho kept inspecting the jumpsuit.

'Have you been to the Water Merchants yet?' Tycho suddenly speaking up made Matthew flinch in surprise.

'Ah… no. When those two went to that Crimson Caravan party and you just disappeared I walked around a bit trying to find it, but I didn't.'

Tycho didn't respond and a few seconds later, Matthew spoke up again, just to break the silence.

'I found a strange building though. A Temple of the Children of the Cathedral. Who the hell are those guys?'

Tycho shrugged.

'I asked them, but they didn't give me a straight answer.' Matthew continued. 'They just said some things about 'embracing the fire' and 'becoming one', but didn't specify any of that. And they worship the nuclear fires! How weird is that? Got some good doctors, though.'

'I'm going to bed.' Tycho said as he stood up, leaving the jumpsuit on his chair. 'You make sure you find those traders, you hear?'

'Yeah. Goodnight'

''Night' He replied plainly and went into one of the rooms. Three seconds later, Tabitha emerged from her room with nothing but her trench-coat on.

'Oh, steaks, alright!'

She sat down and dug in. Mathew cocked a smile.

'Done already?'

'M-hm.' Tabitha nodded with her mouth full. 'He's asleep already. Men.'

'You were awfully quiet.'

'Yeah, we tried something new. So… You and Tycho still shootin' daggers?'

'How did you know?' Matthew frowned.

'Oh please, I'm not a dumb bimbo, I see stuff.' She replied nonchalantly. 'He's kinda upset you're getting the hang of shootin', he projected his younger self into you. He's been getting more and more upset with you with every guy you killed.'

Matthew wanted to say something, but couldn't. Tabitha raised an eyebrow and gave him an amused smile.

'His opinion mean that much to you?'

'Kinda. He's like the perfect merc I want to become.'

'You wanna become a merc?' Tabitha asked, without any hint of belittling his skill or making fun of him. Matthew just nodded.

'Yeah, he's a good role model.' Tabitha replied plainly. 'Follow his path and you'll do it.'

'Really?'

'Yeah.'

'Really?'

Tabitha raised her eyes from her meal again, confused. 'Yeah, you've trouble hearin'?'

'It's just… strange hearing it from you.'

'Hey, I'm not being a mean bitch for the sake of being a mean bitch, I mean what I say.'

'…Thanks.'

'You're welcome.' She smiled again, amused. 'Though you should get that vault business over with first. Kinda strange you haven't been pissin' yourself about it. Good, I mean, strange but good.'

'It's… if I think about it, I do piss my pants so I try not to fret too much about it.' Matthew offered an improvised explanation. The reminder of his quest made him worried again.

'Tycho's a good man, and a good merc. He might value that 'respect for all life stuff', but in reality he's just mourning what he idealistically perceives as a loss. Truth is, he wouldn't be that good of a fighter without that numbness.'

'Doesn't his idealism irritate you?'

'Not really. He's smart and reasonable, and doesn't just go around spewin' random shit and tryin' to be a hero. He just has… integrity, and empathy. Kind of like Ian, but a bit more serious… a -lot- more serious.'

'So how's it going between you and Ian?' Matthew asked.

Tabitha snickered as she finished the last of her meal.

'I thought you were a bit more perceptive. It's going great, obviously.'

'It's kinda hard to tell with you people, you're weird.'

Tabitha burst into loud laughter.

'That's rich.' She said once she was able to speak again. 'Comin' from you of all people.'

'So… you just banging each other or is it serious? I mean, proper people serious?'

'I hope so…' Tabitha broke eye contact and gazed into the night sky through the window, her speech becoming a bit more melancholic. 'He's a smartass. And kinda weird, even to me.' She smiled a little bit. 'He talked about settling in a place like this when he retires… with me.'

'That's great!'

She looked back at him and smiled. 'Yeah. He's cool.'

'Do you want that?'

Tabitha threw him a confused look.

'It's just… you don't look like the settling kind.'

'Well… these bones will get old someday.' She cocked a smile. 'Besides, it would be nice to have a home again… Not right now, but someday…'

'I… can't imagine going back to the vault.'

Tabitha looked at him questioningly again. She was surprised to see Matthew speaking so openly with her.

'Why?'

'I'm… like a different person now…' He started playing with the nail-ring on his hand absent-mindedly. 'I doubt I could fit in again… much less want to.'

'So get them that chip and come live with us!'

'Seriously?'

'Sure.'

'You'd actually like that?'

'You've grown on me.' Tabitha smiled. 'Though you -can- be a whiny bitch,' she said sarcastically, making him smile a bit, 'but you're improvin'.'

'Thanks.'

Tabitha gave him a curious stare, smiling all the while. Matthew returned a questioning look to her.

'What?'

'Back in Shady I didn't think I could ever speak with you so… on the level… You've come a long way.'

'Thanks.' He said shyly. 'Do you really think there's no value in feeling bad about killing a person?'

'Matt, I don't -need- to lie. I believe it. Anything that helps you save your ass goes these days.'

'…I'm bothered I don't feel anything anymore… I… I think I -want- to kill sometimes.'

'Whoa, whoa, you serious, so fast?' The woman laughed. 'Amazing.'

Matthew couldn't reply so he kept staring at the tabletop and playing with the ring.

'When you see half the stuff I've seen, you'll understand.' Tabitha said with a genuinely friendly smile. 'I'll go to bed now, I can't stand the sleepy atmosphere in this room.'

'Goodnight.'

''Night'

She closed the door softly and he was left alone, only with Dogmeat, who wasn't really much of a company.

He stood up and took the candle, then turned to the room Tycho went to.

He stopped.

'I'd rather take that other room.' He thought.

That other room had a queen-sized bed, and Matthew was immediately happy with his choice. Dogmeat followed him into the room lazily and made itself comfortable on the end of the bed.

He blew out the candle and went to sleep.

For some reason, he considered things to be looking up all in all.


	10. Crossroad, Part One

A/N: I don't own Fallout. Still.

A/N 2: I edited the story from here through Collapse and the original way these events unfolded are safely out of the internet and safely in my hard drive. Basically, the following chapters, especially the 'Crossroads' ones were altered so I'd be satisfied with my characters'... um, characters and their development. In essence, these changes are minor plot-wise.

* * *

><p>'He's so amazing!' She'd constantly keep thinking while spending lonely nights in her dad's manour without him. His hair was long. he stood out because of that, for a while, until everyone else started wearing it that way. That's tyhe kind of man he was - one people actually wanted to follow. He could've had anyone and he had chosen her. That made her life a whole lot brighter. Of course, daddy would frown at a Hightower seeing a lowly mercenary so he insisted on making them go slow, like him having to leave so often wasn't already a wedge. But she endured, she always would, with patience and honest work.<p>

'She's so amazing!' He'd constantly think spending lonely nights by the campfire in the the wastes. He'd passed by many women in his life, all head over heels in love with him but once he would decide to give someone a chance he'd soon find them too plain, too dumb, too needy or something along those lines. It wasn't that they weren't good enough, it was just that they never made _him_ fall head over heels and he was thus always aware of their annoying quirks. But it wasn't like that with her. She was clearly visible above the ocean of other women all around him. Educated. Honest. Interesting: many things. She was one of a kind and despite her father insisting on them going slow like him leaving so often wasn't already a wedge, he would always endure, with patience and honest work.

And when they were together it was special: like there was a world of pleasure beyond this one, and only the two of them were allowed in, only when they were together. it was a dimension words would forever fail to describe. It was exquisite, private, thrilling and calming, sleepy and insomnia-inducing. It was the proof of them being meant for each other. He named her his and she named him hers and thus the nights were filled with sensations the body couldn't even fathom, much less reproduce as memories.

'I'm going north.' He said and smiled, and she leaned in and kissed him as always. They said their goodbyes and he was off. She kept looking at the caravan, becoming smaller and smaller, her city behind her.

It was a minor revelation to see them being devoured by the horizon, and an ill omen.

She frowned. 'You bring back my man alright!' She threatened the wasteland.

A gentle breeze passed her by and at that moment she realized how quiet is the sound of a dream shattering.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-01 01:19 PM

At first, it looked like a dark spot on the horizon and, as they kept walking, it eventually turned into a big dark pile of junk with some 'farmlands' surrounding it. Finally, as they entered the Hub, Matthew beheld the old, mostly still intact pre-war buildings with some scrap shacks in-between. The town was a little bit humid: just a little, but it was immediately noticeable. The streets here were dirty and full of various nooks and crannies, as well as foreboding small allies branching off the settlement's main streets, which were for the most part the remains of actual pre-war streets. Even from afar Matthew could tell that the Hub was a very large settlement, if someone were to drop Vault 13 in the middle of it nobody would even notice. Matthew also noticed, though a bit later, that none of the buildings had a second floor, though it looked like some once did. He took a better look and found old, abandoned piles of smashed concrete in the darker nooks of the town. All in all, Matthew's first impression was that the Hub was very big, dirty, and confusing.

It was a while before he directed his attention from the buildings to the people walking among them. They were a very diverse crowd: there were farmers in animal skins shuffling around exhausted, there were well-armed and armoured mercenaries walking in confident yet idle strides, as well as traders in relatively clean pre-war clothes, their jumpy eyes failing to miss the smallest detail of the city they were leisurely walking through, and some working people who were not in agriculture: these people wandered around in dusty dirty clothes with black rings around their eyes and a constant worried expression. Matthew took a look at his companions: Tabitha in her trench-coat striding self confidently, Ian in his leathers, savouring each step of the way, grinning to finally see his home, and Tycho, the silent ranger with an unreadable facial expression, simply a man you knew you didn't want to fuck with just by looking at him. And then there was Matt, and Dogmeat pacing by his side. He smiled. He probably looked like the child of this family.

The settlement got slightly cleaner as they moved deeper into it. In the Market District the scrap shacks disappeared and the architecture of the pre-war part of the town could be seen in all its glory. The buildings were dark grey, almost black, with claustrophobic-looking narrow windows. They were heavily ornamented and some of the corners of the buildings were shaped into columns, statues or bas-reliefs, faded by weather and time and constantly reminding any who walked among them that there has been a war, that many people died and many things were lost. Even though the Market District was also single-storied the plain landscape of the area and the many ruins surrounding the district erased all traces of the fact that there was a wasteland around them but some sand by the side of the road that was carried here by the wind and swept aside. All that could be seen standing here were the dark buildings and the blue skyline, like this place was nowhere.

There were increased patrols of the city's guards in the area - men clad in green composite Combat Armour, their faces hidden behind tinted visors. There were more passers-by in the district than there were residents in all of Shady Sands and Matthew felt intrigued and a tiny bit scared at the same time. He thought that this was probably a very easy place to get lost in.

The first thing the group did was walk down to Mitch's 'All-n-One' General Store and trade off the goods they got off of the dead raiders. Matthew appreciated how cool it was inside of the buildings even in the afternoon. The guns they were selling were repaired nicely by Ian, tough there were now four of them instead of six once Ian broke down some of the crappy 10mm pistols for spare parts. Alas, neither the guns nor the chems they found on the junkie raiders yielded a good price in this cut-throat merchant town.

While they were in the store waiting for Mitch and Tabitha to finally agree on the final price, Matthew briefly brought up his Pip-Boy and noticed it was already the year 2162. He was briefly reminded of his mission, and mildly fascinated by the fact that while Christmas was impossible to miss in the vault, out here he didn't even remember it was supposed to be winter. The world had truly been set on fire and changed.

The next stop was the Crimson Caravan Headquarters, another one-story building on the north-western edge of the district, looking a bit more unkempt than the rest. The vault dweller recalled Ian once saying that Crimson Caravans was the toughest merchant outfit in the wastes as they travelled the most dangerous routes, and he supposed the unkempt appearance should've gone pretty well with the bad-ass reputation. Indeed the world has become a strange place.

The room they entered first must've been the reception area for whatever purpose the building served before the war as well as right now by the small weathered wooden counter and a woman buried in paperwork behind it. The rest of the spacious hall was filled with tables and chairs and served as a socializing area by the amount of people sitting around the fairly unkempt place, drinking whisky and chatting. The woman behind the counter looked up at the newcomers and smiled once her gaze drifted upon Ian. She turned her head to one of the people sitting around. 'Dad!' She called out and a stocky man turned around and looked at her, then followed her gaze and looked upon Ian, then smiled and stood up. Most of the rest of the people did that too. Their reactions were different shades of surprise and joy.

'Ian!' The man approached the merc and shook his hand heartily. 'Welcome back you no-good slacker!' He laughed.

A storm of laughs and greetings ensued as the people enveloped the newcomers, or, more specifically, Ian. More mercenaries walked out of the rooms deeper in the building and joined in the greeting. Matthew and Tycho took a few steps back and allowed the long-awaited return of the man take place before them, the vault dweller unable to do anything but smirk seeing his friend back in the place where he belonged.

The man who greeted him first was Demetre Romara, the owner of the Crimson Caravans, and Ian introduced his companions giving Tabitha a glowing recommendation in the process. The woman stood there with a slightly disinterested expression, obviously trying to keep appearances. Tycho caught the guards' attention as well. These men have travelled far and wide and have heard of the legendary Desert Rangers of Nevada. Tycho didn't provide many details in his answers to the many questions the awed guards asked, but he kept a calm manner, as well as what in the wasteland probably passed for a pleasant demeanour. Matthew retreated even further back and stood by the door and watched the scene through a crowd of guards, a little envy crawling its way into him. He could only hope that one day he could be one of these people: strange people, yes, but good, tough people who earned their keep by the sweat of the brow and putting their lives on the line. People that looked after one another and were glad to see one of their own return. Dogmeat sat down by his side, its eyes shooting curiously between the many unfamiliar people in the room.

'God, these guys keep coming at him more than the girls!' The vault dweller heard a woman say in a rough, confident voice next to him. Turning at the speaker he saw the stranger who was just behind the counter a minute ago: a tall young woman with a small faux-hawk-minus-the-gel and a tight-fitting black leather outfit. The girl's hair was a light shade of brown and despite probably being quite young she looked tough and weathered, mostly because of the confident, almost daring look she sported and the amount of dust on her face. The woman turned to Matthew and looked him up and down, as if evaluating. Before Matthew could register that, she gave a cocky smile with the edge of her lip and looked him in the face. 'I like what I see.' She stated, and Matthew suddenly got the feeling she might have not been measuring him up as a merc, but as a piece of meat to warm her bed.

Despite all of the apathy and uncaring he accumulated during the last few days he still found himself uncomfortable, his thoughts returning once again to Evelyn.

'You came here with Ian.' That was not a question. 'I'm Keri.'

'Matt.' He offered his hand with uncertainty. She shook it firmly.

'So who's the girl Ian's complimenting?' She asked, looking at the two figures standing closely together, as if they were one. 'Ian found himself a sweetheart out there?'

'No…' Matthew raced to determine what he could say and not screw things up for Ian. After all, he didn't know anything about his life back here and he could do him harm unknowingly. 'She came here to work for Crimson Caravans and… Well, he's telling the truth. She's the best.'

She looked at him as if evaluating. 'And you?'

'I've other business. I was just along for the ride.'

She looked briefly at the desert ranger, relating something about the rangers' life with detachment that evoked respect from the caravan guards.

'Yeah, when you're lying or evading it's best to use as much truth as possible.' She smiled. Matthew tensed up. 'Don't worry,' she laughed, 'I'm a good friend of Ian and I see you're coming from the right place.' She looked into Ian again and sighed. 'The man has a knack for hurting people. He can never see it, though, and he'd do anything to stop it if he _did_ see it. I see he's poised to strike again.' She said cryptically.

'What do you mean?' The vault dweller asked meekly.

'You'll see, unfortunately.' She said evenly. Ian noticed her standing beside Matthew and let out a loud greeting. 'I'll see you around.' She said to Matthew without turning to look at him and approached Ian.

Tycho came over, tapped Matthew in the shoulder, and the two men and the dog left the building. Matthew felt as if he was released from a choke-hold.

'They're throwing them a party.' Tycho stated. 'Right now, binge drinking until first light.'

'Not your cup of tea?' The younger man asked. The ranger shook his head.

'Is it yours?' He asked in return. Matthew shrugged.

'I'll return to them in a while, they'll be drunk and I won't be so uncomfortable.'

Tycho frowned just a little. 'Yeah. That water thing shouldn't be hard to find.'

'Water thing?'

'The chip you need to save your people.'

'Oh…' Matthew completely forgot about that. That was kind of dumb on his part. Was the ranger frowning at him? 'Yeah, not a lot of places where it could be… I'll get to it.' He gave the ranger a fake smile, turned on his heels, and walked in a random direction, realizing it would've been smarter to ask someone for some sort of a pointer. Regardless, he kept on walking, trying to escape the uncomfortable situation. Dogmeat followed him lazily.

'Since when is being reminded of your quest an uncomfortable situation?' Matthew asked himself. 'There's not thinking about it in order not to feel bad, and there's also getting completely distracted from something this important.'

His guts turned. He was doing a really shitty job. The clock is ticking.

Matthew closed his eyes and dismissed those thoughts. 'They're not helping. I won't find it paralysed with despair. I need to keep going with a clear head.'

The vault dweller concentrated on the buildings around him and the signs of various shops. The twisting sensation in his gut receded very slowly.

He returned to the party at the Caravan Office around midnight without having moved an inch forward in his search. The party was in full swing, though Ian and Tabitha were nowhere to be found. He drew a bottle of booze from his own pack and started looking for them, too uncomfortable to start partying with complete strangers.

A drunk mercenary informed him as to the location of the room his friends were in and he hesitantly entered.

It was Demetre's office, a neat and tidy place with a big desk and a set of file cabinets by the wall. Kirren, Ian and Tabitha were sat in front of the desk and Demetre, a serious figure despite the booze in his hand, sat behind the desk.

Ian nodded for Matthew to come on in, looking somewhat worried. Dogmeat slowly walked into the room and Matt closed the door behind it. Kirren's eyes lit up and she extended her hand, calling the mutt. Matthew sat down on a chair by the wall.

'Come on closer.' Tabitha said, visibly irritated. 'I want you to hear this.'

Matthew did so reluctantly, not certain of what was going on.

'So basically,' Tabitha summed up the conversation up to that point, directing her words at the owner of the caravan company, 'you have a shitload of people missing, other caravans are in the same situation, and you're doing the wait-and-see thing?'

Not a muscle moved on Demetre's face.

'That would be the case, yes.' He confirmed. 'The caravans we sent out disappeared without a trace. We have no leads at all.'

'That doesn't happen.' Tabitha said evenly. 'There is always something, a rumour, a wild theory – always something to grab and start investigating from.'

'I'm afraid my people heard nothing; I asked them for just that.'

'Your people didn't. And other people…?' She was almost accusing him.

'We cannot really investigate that.' Demetre was keeping his composure well. 'One theory I _do_ know of, you see, is that it's a caravan competition thing. Everyone suspects everyone else.'

'Even though everyone's been hit?'

Demetre nodded. 'It's to draw away suspicion, they say.'

Tabitha sighed. 'So the caravan business is paralysed, then?'

'Yes. We're sending out maybe one caravan in four compared to our previous activity.'

Tabitha sighed. 'I'll see it solved then. After all, I'm not one of you guys yet.' She stood up. 'I'm sorry but I think I should go to bed now, it's been a long day and tomorrow isn't shaping up to be shorter.' She looked at Ian. 'Where are we staying?'

'As associates of Ian James you are welcome to stay here.' Demetre said, his voice still business-like. 'Yet we cannot offer anything except beds for free, I'm afraid.'

Tabitha nodded. 'That's plenty. Thank you.'

She walked out of the room. Demetre sighed and released the tension in his shoulders.

'I'm sorry.' Ian said. 'She can be… difficult at times. Price of excellence. Right Matt?' The merc turned to him and the vault dweller recognized it as a plea for support.

'She's full of initiative and headstrong.' Matthew nodded. 'And Ian is right, it is the price of excellence.' He paused and thought. 'Or rather the reason for it.'

Demetre nodded. 'I guess we'll see if Ian's praises were well-deserved in time. In the meantime, I can already think of a thousand ways her employment here can cause trouble.'

'I'll look after her.' Ian said. His boss nodded and a silence fell on the room.

Kirren, who has been scratching Dogmeat behind the ear happily the whole time withdrew her hand from the mutt and sat up straight.

'I like her,' she said.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-01 09:44 PM

Tycho sat down on an improvised bar stool in front of Iguana Bob's Iguana-on-a-Stick stand, his guard all the way up: he didn't dare take it down in a desert oasis of thieves and scoundrel. He ordered a whiskey from the outdoor canteen as the proprietor was used to serving drinks here: some people didn't want to have them in the Maltese Falcon, the local bar with a criminal reputation.

The iguanas were cheap and not particularly delicious, and only the most destitute of residents dined here. Tycho bit down on his piece of awful-tasting meat and leaned back on the counter, his back to Iguana Bob and his eyes to the dirty passers-by of this 'hub of civilization'.

He sighed. How long has he been with this group of ragtag travellers? A week? He couldn't tell, he could never tell these sort of things, but he knew it was way too short… and yet he cares about them surprisingly much. It's not like someone who constantly wanders the wastes can get easily attached to someone else, but Matthew… He saw himself in that young man, he saw the virtues he was taught as a child. He saw an shy and scared young man in need of guidance and he was happy to provide it… But with each fight he seemed to lose those virtues, that respect for life, and in the young man the ranger saw himself as he went through the loss of these virtues. Ultimately, of course, Tycho came to find that every Desert Ranger, including him, had lost them: that was another lesson, one the wasteland taught, one that his family couldn't have possibly hammered into his head. Of course, it was because of that instilled respect for life that Tycho didn't become no better than any common thug, but he still refused that the twisted remains of the world could teach him an indisputably good and righteous lesson. It was, after all, shaped by the people, and, for the most part, the worst kind of people. And Matthew… He might see his already withering hesitation as a weakness, but in time he would understand what he'd lost, but it would be too little too late, and just remembering how it felt for him… It made him want to ensure no one ever lost that again if he could do anything about it.

But how can he accomplish that? No solution was in his sight. He could not tell him how to feel, and he didn't really know how to steer him the right way. And by the looks of this 'oasis' the wasteland itself will steer him the wrong way.

'You… Wouldn't happen to be one of the desert rangers, would you?' A calm and soothing voice of a woman shook Tycho out of his silent musings and he found himself approached by a young woman of average height and average body build, which was quite rare in the starving wastes. The woman looked to be in her late twenties and had her thick black hair combed well and twisted into an elegant bun at the back of her head. She wore a rather stylish dark blue pre-war dress that would have looked like a gown if it wasn't for a plain but beautiful black leather belt around her waist. The woman looked smart and serene, her large blue eyes soothing to even look at.

'Tycho.' The desert ranger nodded.

'Wow, you really _are_ a desert ranger. It's a pleasure and an honour. Welcome to the Hub. It's a true delight to have a person like you here.'

'Thank you. This is a most welcoming community.' Tycho said as politely as he could.

'Thank _you_ for the compliment; we do the best we can to make every newcomer feel welcome here…' The young woman eyed the Iguana-on-a-stick 'canteen' and for a moment a glint of sadness appeared in those blue eyes. 'Of course, we are far from being a perfect place… but we're trying. The Hub Society of Citizens is working diligently in order to make this little oasis a better place for everyone.'

'Rebuilding even a patch of civilization from the ashes of The War takes time. Do not feel discouraged if it doesn't happen overnight. It doesn't.' Tycho always hated having to play the upright and unwavering do-gooder in front of admirers. He knew better than to think he was one.

The woman nodded courtly. 'Yes, we understand that only long-term plans can help rebuild this place, and that's exactly the way we're going. Of course, it would really help to have the support of more citizens of the Hub, even if only the caravans would join us we could do a lot more for this place.'

'And what is exactly your Hub Society of Citizens?'

'Oh, we are a group of citizens concerned with the future of our home. We are primarily the wealthier persons here, like traders and bigger farmers. We encourage all citizens to join, but it appears that some are too poor to invest time in our society… Alas, we do try to familiarize ourselves with their concerns and represent their interests the best we can.'

Tycho nodded slowly. The girl meant well, but the ranger felt she was either all talk, or a bit too naïve: her Society didn't sound like anything more than a fancy game, though the polite and admittedly beautiful woman was one hell of a face for the cause.

'Speaking of the Society, I must attend one of our meetings. We're searching for avenues to fund a more thorough cleaning of the streets so that this place could really look like the oasis in the wastes that it is. It is a rather difficult task, to be honest, but we _are_ making progress, I believe. It was very nice to meet you, mister Tycho… I…' The woman's gaze froze on nothing in particular, like she just got a good idea that made her start thinking. 'Actually… now that you are here, perhaps you would like to contribute to the welfare of this community? I _do_ believe we can offer you something as a payment.'

'I'm afraid I'm a drifter, I will not stay long and cannot offer any help with your society…'

'Oh, yes, I understand. But there are many ways a person can make a difference, and some may appear very small. There are a lot of people out there in the wastes that choose to live outside of the law and, to be honest, common human sense. One of the farmers, Irwin, just recently was forced to abandon his farm when these immoral people took over his farm. We simply cannot let this injustice continue. Irwin is an honest, hard-working man and, as I hear, pretty handy, I believe he can offer you a very tangible reward and you would contribute to the Hub's well-being…'

'Say no more.' Tycho smiled. 'It is my duty to help those righteous people who need it. Just tell me where I could find this Irwin.'

The edge of the woman's delicate lips slightly ascended to a faint, pleased smiled.

'Irwin has currently found shelter in the more run-down relics of the past architecture that way.' Her smile slowly faded away. 'A shame about all those slums, really, as if the East Side wasn't already an arrow to the heart. And it is also a shame we cannot offer any proper arrangements for the poor man… I believe there are quite a few things we have failed at.'

'I will see Irwin the first chance I get, miss…'

'Oh… My sincerest apologies. Rhonda. Rhonda Hightower. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Tycho… I believe I'm running late… Thank you for your generous deed.' The woman gave a slight bow and hurried to the West Side, the one Tycho identified as the home of the rich folk around here. With the woman gone, Tycho ordered some Scotch and took a good swig. Really, the woman, though she meant well, was really either a big phony or really clueless. Admittedly, figures like her would have a tremendous effect on most people, but the ranger had seen way too much to fail to disregard it.

He stared into the slums at the direction Irwin was said to be found in blankly, a rather unpleasant thought entering his head.

The woman, probably genuinely well-intentioned, was marked as either a ditz or a liar by him… Does his departure from the morals of his childhood really stretch that far? Is he really that much of a callous, wasteland-twisted person?

He took another big swig. For a brief moment he considered that having never met Matthew would probably have been a bit better for his peace of mind as so many demons were currently surfacing. And all he could do was drink. A dead end.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-03 02:27 PM

The four and a half companions made their way back to the Hub from Irwin's farm under the harsh noon sun and decided to chill out at the Crimson Caravan Headquarters. Matthew disappeared almost immediately upon arrival. Walking through the streets of the Hub Matthew couldn't exactly tell how he was feeling. While the brand new world and a brand new goal seemed invigorating to him, his reason for being here coupled with Tycho's sudden and probably reasonable distaste of him were weighing heavily on him, so he made the effort to look his earnest this time.

The merchants at the centre of the settlement didn't even know what a water chip was, and they probably wouldn't have told him anyway as the first reaction he would get in each shop would be a threat to make sure Dogmeat does not decide to go number two on the merchandise. There was one merchant who didn't mind, some woman who sold guns. Upon hearing about a 'water chip' she relayed Matthew to the Water Merchants because both names had the word 'water' in them. The vault dweller immediately dismissed that, reasoning that all they did was pump water and haul it around the wasteland, but the more unbearable the heat became and the longer that sick feeling in his gut remained, the more desperate he was becoming. At the end, he was proven right: while the Water Merchants knew of a water purification chip, they had no idea where one could be found and relayed him to some undoubtedly nice place called 'Necropolis' with an explanation being something like 'they don't buy our water so they must have their own, so it's obvious they have a whatchacalledit!'. Matthew decided not to go into details about the probability of some community calling themselves 'Necropolis' getting their water using Vault-Tek equipment.

It was an hour before sunset when Matthew decided to call it a day. As he dragged his feet through the dirty oasis he couldn't help but feel powerless. He couldn't find the water chip, even in the place about which it's told that 'if you can't find it here, you won't find it anywhere'. He wouldn't be able to accomplish his task; he didn't know where else he could look. He didn't know if one could be found. He didn't know if all of his searching wasn't just a fool's errand. How can any wasteland community ever possess…

He stopped. Maybe he wasn't looking for a wasteland community. The first place he was told to look was Vault 15… Because that was the only vault the residents of Vault 13 knew of. But if he could find another one…

'Yeah, right.' He thought sarcastically. 'Like that's gonna be easy.' If information regarding the vaults was easily accessible even Vault 13 would have already received wastelander guests...

'Hey!'

Matthew turned around and saw a rather beautiful young woman approach him. The way she held herself made it obvious that she knew just how beautiful she was, and, more subtly, that her beauty was something she relied on to get her food on the table.

'You the man who's going around asking about a water chip?' The girl asked, obviously already knowing the answer and just wanting to be done with it, like she considered the vault dweller nothing more than a daily chore to take care of. Matthew simply nodded.

'My employer heard that you were asking and told me to go fetch you. Let's go.'

'He knows where I can find...' Matthew's stomach caught fire. Here it was, finally, the ray of hope. The woman looked at him as if he was retarded.

'No.' She replied sarcastically. 'That's why I'm here, to tell you he doesn't. Come on now, he doesn't like to be kept waiting.'

They almost made it all the way back to the Crimson HQ when the woman stopped in front of some sort of a bar and motioned for Matthew to go in.

'I'll watch the dog for you.' The woman stated irritated. 'The boss would kill me if I allowed some wasteland mutt into his office.

The vault dweller commanded Dogmeat to sit and went inside after managing to catch a glimpse of the name of the place, 'The Maltese Falcon'. It was one of the dirtier places in the wasteland, filled with silent, sullen patrons, but Matthew didn't get a good look at them or the bar itself as he was immediately taken to the office of the girl's employer, which was in the basement.

The small room reeked of dust and booze. There was a single small window there and the narrow ray of light fell through it on the chair that was placed in front of a table, the other man, presumably the woman's employer, who sat on another chair on the other side drowned in the shadow of the room's twilight. Matthew slowly approached the chair and sat down, an uneasy feeling rising in his stomach.

'So we meet at last,' a slow, gravelly and confident voice reached him from the shadows before him, 'the famous vault dweller, here in my office. My name is Decker.'

'Famous...?'

'Not famous enough for me to know your name, or should I just call you Mr. Impolite?' The voice scolded.

'My name is Matt.'

'Hello, Matthew. Yes, you are rather famous, at least among people who keep their eyes and ears open.' Matthew heard a silent shuffle of feet behind him, guards taking position by the door, probably. 'I heard of your exploits in Junktown and how you took care of Gizmo.'

Matthew was about to object he had little to do with it but then remembered how the guard back there thought Ian was the vault dweller. This was bad.

'Gizmo was one of my partners...' The voice continued and Matthew suddenly found himself on the verge of panic. 'Well, not as much a partner as a partner-in-crime. Always thought himself mightier than he was, the fat tub of lard.'

'I was told you...' Matt attempted.

'Yes, the water chip.' There was more than just a hint of satisfaction in the man's voice. 'I do happen to know where to find it but information, as I believe you have already found out, isn't free around here.'

The vault dweller could only nod.

'I have everything I'd want right here,' Decker said, shuffling in the shadows, probably leaning back, Matthew thought, 'except for quality work. You seem capable. So... You see what I'm getting at?'

Matthew nodded. 'What do you want me to do?'

Though on the verge of freaking out Matthew was still conscious enough to know that whatever the man demanded of him Matthew was in no position not to deliver, even if he suddenly found no need for the water chip. And judging by everything he'd seen and heard of the man that little task he was about to give him was going to be something Matthew won't feel like doing in a million years.

There was a brief silence and the vault dweller could almost feel the other man's eyes upon him, evaluating. 'You performed well in Junktown,' he finally said, 'but Junktown is a simple town of hicks. Before we get to the real business I would like to see if you can accomplish anything in the delicate environment of the Hub.'

Matthew swallowed. 'How can I do that?'

'There is a man who has been hindering my business for years, attempting to question my methods. His name is Daren Hightower. I want him dead.'

Matthew had to check if he didn't start shivering. He knew it, he knew this meeting bode only ill.

'It would seem you are still quite reliant on the help of those comrades you've gathered.' Decker continued. 'I think you should probably discuss this with them... So, will you do this for me?'

Matthew nodded shakily. 'I will.'

He almost felt Decker smile at his response. He shuffled around and stood up, then slowly walked around the table and up to Matthew, the small ray of light finally hitting his face and revealing it to the younger man. He was a balding and elderly man, but seemed to be of strong build. And the eyes: despite having the face of a fifty-year-old the man had the eyes of a twenty-year-old. Or more like an animal, he thought, a dangerous animal on a hunt.

'It's a deal, then.' The man smiled and extended his hand. Matthew slowly stood up and shook it, his heart almost coming out of his throat. 'Well, it's been a pleasure, but I believe we both have work to do.'

Matthew nodded. He felt like he had to say something but couldn't so he started towards the door. The two guards who stood on either side of the door moved sideways and blocked his path.

'One more thing,' Decker said and Matthew turned around slowly to face the man. He looked almost rabid. 'I believe this would go without saying but from my experience I have learnt it sometimes doesn't. Don't try to screw me over. I am not a patient man and I am not a forgiving man. But I _am_ a powerful and merciless man. You would do well to remember it.'

Matthew nodded. 'I will.' He said, barely audibly. The men moved aside and Matthew returned back to the surface, putting all his strength into walking up slowly instead of making a run for it. As soon as the sun and the fresh air hit him he felt scared and tired beyond measure. He got himself into deep mess.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-02 9:10 PM

When he returned to the Crimson Caravans office, shaken from his encounter with Decker, the first thing he saw upon entering the building was Ian alone in the reception area, hugging a woman unfamiliar to Matthew tightly. Ian gave the vault dweller the briefest of glances before they broke their embrace. Matthew started towards the door into the small bunk rooms beyond where the company was staying.

'I missed you. You were held up in that place up north so long…' The woman's voice was silk.

Matthew entered the corridor behind the door and was startled to find Tabitha standing there in the shadows, her hands crossed on her chest, her facial expression unreadable. She glanced briefly at the vault dweller and then back to the two people. Matthew went in and tried to walk past her. Without averting her gaze Tabitha grabbed his upper arm gently and stopped him.

'I was wounded and couldn't return here quickly…' Ian smiled faintly.

'But you're back here now, finally.' She smiled back. 'And nothing else matters.'

Matthew realized that if Ian doesn't mention Tabitha now shit is going to hit the fan real bad.

'There's… Many things I want to discuss with you.' Ian smiled. 'How about we meet up in some… nicer place, this evening.'

'Sorry.' She smiled. 'Make it tomorrow evening. I'll be looking forward to it.'

'Very well.' He nodded. She smiled again, leaned in slowly, and put a gentle kiss on his lips. 'See you tomorrow.'

With that she turned around and left. Matt watched her go and thought she was the prettiest woman he'd seen up here. When he looked behind him Tabitha was already gone.

He stood in the shadows for a second, unsure how to proceed. He wanted to simply drop on a bed and sleep the day through, but something inside him told him there's trouble brewing and he'd better see to it. The decision, however, was made not by him, but by Ian who noticed him standing there and motioned with his hand for him to come up. He did so reluctantly and sat down with the merc at one of the tables, Ian unscrewing the cap from a whiskey bottle the moment they sat down.

'Pretty, isn't she?' Ian asked smiling. He took a large swig and handed the bottle to Matthew. He took it and noticed how he could barely feel he was holding anything at all.

'What're you playing at?' Matthew asked more coarsely than he intended. He didn't even notice it thanks to the fatigue. Ian's smile faded.

'Guess there's no point trying to sugar-coat it?'

'No.'

Ian scratched his brow and stared off into the table. 'She's my… girlfriend.'

Silence fell between the two men. The whiskey in Matthew's hand remained motionless.

'What are you going to do about it?'

Ian didn't even look up. 'Break up with her, I guess?'

'You guess.'

The merc's head snapped up. 'What's wrong with you? It isn't like you to act this way.'

Matthew stared back at him, feeling completely disoriented, like he wasn't even here, like he didn't even exist until that moment, his memories and feeling of self completely shrouded. He put the whiskey back on the table, untouched. 'I could ask you the same thing.'

He stood up and walked into a bunk room and fell on a random bed. He was almost asleep when he heard someone come in and sit next to him.

'What did he say?' He heard Tabitha ask.

Many possible answers to that question went through Matthew's head at that moment and the one he chose was not one of those but an answer formed at the same time it was vocalized, 'Shit.'

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-03 2:37 PM

The small yard behind the Crimson Caravans office was nothing but a collection of clutter, bordered by the dirty crumbling walls of the old buildings. The windows were covered with rags, obviously the homes of the poor. Alas, the yard was quiet, and as Matthew sat there on a barely standing bench with Dogmeat sleeping peacefully on the ground by his feet he couldn't help but think that this was the most lonesome place in the world, just like his life right now.

Sleep wasn't any good for his mood. He was shocked into a complete apathy before, but after sleeping it off he only felt tired, scared and alone. He could've ran to Ian, Tabitha, and Tycho for help, but he couldn't. If he did, he would've admitted he was worthless, so that was out of the question as well. That was probably a mistake, and he knew it. Besides, things between Ian and Tabitha are about to go to Shit Town. There was simply nowhere to run to.

He could just embrace it, though. Tabitha would tell him to. He could just kill Daren and become baptised as a wastelander, he would take his first step in becoming something in this barren ghost of a world. Besides, that was the only sensible thing to do. What is the life of that one man, a stranger, compared to the population of Vault 13? One would die for many. That was the rational way to go. It wouldn't be Matthew's whim, it would be… destiny, Daren's destiny to die for the people of the vault with Matthew not as the killer but rather as a tool of destiny, a representative of the Vault. Just that, a tool of his quest and his people. It wouldn't be on _his_ conscience, it would be on the collective conscience of Vault 13, the unfeeling entity… right?

'Quiet, isn't it?' He heard someone speak behind him. The girl he met the first time he was here, Keri, suddenly appeared in the yard and sat down beside him.

'Just peace and rubbish.' The girl continued. 'Only old folk and women come here, unless the house it too packed with drunks, in which case they don't come here for quiet.' She motioned at the empty bottles of booze that lay in the yard. 'Thus the name, Old Woman's Garden.'

'You're thinking, then?' She started once again since Matthew remained quiet.

'Trying to.' He finally replied quietly.

'Good.' The woman complimented. 'Good to see some people actually think these days.'

'Don't the others?' Matthew pursued without interest.

'As I said, old folk and women.'

'Well… that's sad.'

Silence fell between the two.

'What're you thinking about?' She asked.

Matthew tried to think of a way to convey his troubles without disclosing too much. 'I'm sort of stuck. I… need something done but I don't know if I can do it…'

'Do it.' The woman replied evenly.

'What… You… don't even know what it is…'

The woman sighed, as if in irritation, but Matthew had already noticed that little of her actual emotion was ever visible. He actually doubted there ever was one.

'Not doing things is the problem with people these days.' She said, taking in the sight of rubbish in the yard. 'They need things done but simply cannot do them, they just wait for it to be delivered while they sit around and make excuses. That's all I ever hear from people: excuses. Nothing ever moves forward because people are too damn dumb or cowardly to act. That's why we're stuck here in a huge pile of wasteland shit instead moving forward eighty years after the bombs fell.'

Matthew sat hunched, looking at his hands. 'What if the thing I need to do is cold-blooded murder?'

She looked at him. 'And what will you achieve in result?'

'Save over a thousand people from certain death.'

She thought for a moment. 'Are you sure that both deaths are really certain and there's no other way?'

'Yeah,' he nodded, still looking down, 'their time is running out and the thing I need to save them is nowhere even in my sight.'

'Do it, then.' She shrugged, staring off into nothing in particular again. 'It might sound mean but a thousand lives is worth more than one.'

Matthew sat silent, trying his best to squeeze out the words, 'I don't want to be a murderer.'

She looked at him again and he couldn't bear to look at her.

'Do you want to let a thousand people die instead?'

He shook his head.

'Besides,' she continued, 'you can keep silent about the nature of your trouble but as I understand they sent you out to get whatever they need to keep surviving so it's not that you're doing the killing. A higher purpose is doing that.'

Had he heard someone talk like that back in the vault he would've been concerned, but right now it sounded more like someone was reading his thoughts exactly. He failed to feel concerned about it.

'Thanks.' He nodded, still looking down.

'You're welcome.' She replied plainly. 'Anything to get things moving.'

She patted him on the shoulder and walked back inside, leaving him to his grim thoughts.

* * *

><p>Evelyn turned over on the small dirty bed she found herself in. The whole room reeked of dust and mould, and barely any sunlight got through the 'curtains' of the room, which were nothing more than a pile of tattered rags put one on the other and then hung crudely above the window. Her hand slowly trailed down her right leg until the fingers felt the bandage. She touched the bandage softly, wincing after most of these touches. She finally stopped and let her hands drop by her sides. It was her fourth day in the bed now, and she felt like complaining to every living soul that entered her small room. Though she didn't feel she had the right to: these people took her in and took care of her. Besides, Mark in the other room had a matching bullet wound on his left leg, and his has festered, which was unsurprising given the sanitary conditions of this place.<p>

Slowly, she reached into her backpack and retrieved her Pip-boy, her probably most valued belonging, and started scrolling though the files until she found what she was looking for. A picture of Matthew.

She smiled.

It was a shame that she had to hack into the vault's resident listings to find such a trivial piece of her beloved. Not that such things mattered in a cooped-up community, but now she was glad she did. Her fingers ran down the monitor where her lover's cheek was displayed and her smile broadened.

'Matthew.' She mouthed, smiling. 'Matthew' She kept repeating the name until the power off and put down the device, rolled on her other side and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Almost a bottle into Tabitha's surprisingly abandoned whisky supplies Matthew finally remembered to remove his Pip-boy - something he should've done days ago. It was a chore to do that, but once it was off of his hand the man felt lighter and truly free. It was the last bit of vault he had and he would've cast the thing away if it wasn't so damn useful.<p>

'You're useless now that I'm trapped here.' He stated to the machine. It didn't respond.

He was about to put it down until he remembered he had a picture of Evelyn somewhere in it. It took him a while to find it, and once he did, he was almost surprised he wasn't overcome with melancholy from looking into her face. Truth be told he felt maybe slightly sentimental, like he was glimpsing upon a random piece of his past. She was pretty, she always was and always will be, but now she was miles away, both literally and figuratively.

He powered down the Pip-boy and threw into his pack absent-mindedly as he finished the bottle and lied down on his bed. Dogmeat woke up, climbed into the bed, and made himself comfortable beside its master. Matthew stroke its back slowly until he drifted off to sleep, thinking that the dog was much dearer to him than that old heavy machine.


	11. Crossroad, Part Two

A/N: Who owns Fallout? Not me!

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-03 4:37 PM

Ian, Tycho and Demetre were sat at the office of the company's boss, drinking whiskey and chatting leisurely, though admittedly, Ian was actually worried inside but did his best not to show it.

'Heard that Tabitha girl's been making deals with Jake.' Demetre stated.

'Has she?' Ian asked tensely.

'You didn't know?'

'No.'

'Who's Jake?' Tycho asked.

'A feller in Old Town, sells guns.' Demetre explained. 'Used to be a part of this strange technology cult, mean people. Runs a shady business, the Hub's police sent some guards up to his shop and I know for a fact that it's not that they want to protect him that much.'

Tycho nodded. 'No solid evidence, though?'

Demetre shook his head. 'No. But that man is bad business. At the very least, people here in Crimson Caravans are already lashing their tongues behind her back about it. They didn't take a liking to her.'

'I don't see why it matters.' Ian sighed, exasperated. 'Jake's a shady character but we have nothing solid on him. Besides, out there, it's about how well you can shoot, not about who you associate with.'

'I know.' His boss replied calmly. 'But I suspect some people will have a hard time shooting well with her around.'

'That doesn't even make sense.'

'It kinda does.' Tycho opined. 'Tension and all.'

Ian sighed again. He'd seen it coming, of course, that Tabitha would not fit in all that well with the people around the Hub. They were city people with all the dumb quirks that come with that and she was a wasteland woman who didn't give a fuck about that. Conflict was inevitable. He felt a tang of guilt when he considered that upon seeing Rhonda again he wasn't sure if he was even on Tabitha's side anymore.

'I don't think, though,' Tycho continued, 'that you should hold anything against that Jake fellow if you're not sure he's up to no good.'

Demetre shrugged. 'I guess so. We're just a bit scared about where our money will end up if we buy from him.'

'Thieves' Guild got that covered.' Ian smiled and Demetre raised an amused eyebrow at that.

'Good guys.' He said.

'Thieves Guild?' Tycho asked, confused.

'It's a guild of thieves, plain and simple.' Demetre explained. 'They steal from the rich and give to the poor. They helped a lot of people.'

Tycho frowned. 'But… stealing is unlawful.'

'For a right cause…' Demetre shrugged. 'The rich folk around here got their riches in pretty unlawful ways too.'

'So you fight evil with evil?'

'It's not evil.' Ian chuckled. 'Just some setting the record straight.'

'And you're both acquainted with them?'

'I'm not.' Demetre said. 'Businessman and all, but I sympathize. Ian here's been stealing stuff for them for a while.'

'Yeah.' Ian confirmed. 'For fuck's sake, we can just head down to them later on and you can see for yourself, they're an alright bunch.'

Tycho nodded. 'Maybe we shall, maybe we shall.'

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-03 7:05 PM

Ian surveyed the empty room before him. He was in a basement in one of the several rooms in a row that had two doors at their both ends. Tycho took a step ahead, but Ian stopped him by raising a hand. He directed his makeshift flashlight towards the centre of the room.

'Tripwire.'

Tycho frowned.

'Why?'

'He's an interesting… bloke, in case you couldn't tell.'

Ian slowly approached the tripwire, took a large step over it, and scanned the rest of the room with the light. Tycho followed somewhat more sluggishly. 'They steal from the rich and give to the poor' Ian had told him earlier, immediately piquing his interest. And now they were making their way to this dubiously good person, each step reassuring the man was a strange one. Steal from the rich and give to the poor… Tycho was certain he'd heard that before, but didn't really think that could ever apply to someone in the burned-out world.

The next two rooms featured another tripwire and five pressure plates among them. The man was probably very theatrical, making it look like seeking his audience was a dangerous quest.

They finally entered a small basement room, which was essentially a small kitchen with a big dining table. There were two men and two women sitting by the table, all in black leather except for the casually dressed man at the end of the table, sitting at the spot obviously meant for the most important person around. The man definitely didn't look regal, except that while the rest of the people at the table had a lithe body-build he was a bit more bulky, which arguably added to his image as the patriarch around here.

'Ian!' The 'regal' man greeted the newcomers loudly as he stood up and approached them to shake their hands. 'It's been a long bloody while since I've seen you here, what have you gotten yourself into?' The man's thick Irish accent finally convinced Tycho the man was mad.

'Oh, just kicking it back in the north with a hole in my leg?'

'North? There is not a sodding thing up north!'

'I've met someone who would argue with you.' Ian smiled and the man turned his attention to the ranger.

'Tycho.' He shook his hand. 'He wasn't referring to me.'

'Loxley.' The man introduced himself. 'You reek of law.'

'Desert Ranger.' Tycho replied neutrally. The man looked back at Ian.

'I shall trust my old friend's judgement on this one. So… what brings you here?'

'Just catching up with an old friend.' Ian smiled. 'And Tycho here was actually intrigued in your little organization.'

'I hope it is in a good way. You know what I say: mess with the Thieves Guild… and we'll be gone before the cops get here!' The man laughed and motioned for the two guests to sit down at the table. Tycho actually smirked a bit. The man was insane, but he was at least entertaining. As he sat down and looked around the silent shady characters at the table he returned to his earlier guess. The man was an actor.

'Good you're here, Ian.' Loxley said as he sat down. 'The bloody coppers are looking for us -us!- instead of actually solving crime and there's work to be done. The rich are getting richer by siphoning the blood of the poor and we need to change that!'

'That's what you're all about, right?' Tycho asked evenly. 'Defending the poor?'

The man laughed. 'If it were any other bloody way we'd be having this conversation in my luxurious villa in the Heights instead of this grungy dungeon!'

'It's interesting. You're doing something wrong because it's the right thing to do?'

'Yes we are. Since the coppers aren't out there defending the poor someone has to stick up for them. The ends justify the means, as rotten as it sounds. We don't mind getting our hands dirty tin order to help people. Without us, they'd be a lot worse off.'

'It's not nice,' Ian added, 'but it has to be done to at least stem the tide.'

'Stem the tide!' Loxley laughed. 'That's bloody adorable! Even with several dozen of my filthy rats out there in the street I'm still fighting a losing war!'

'Anything on your mind?'

Loxley smiled. 'Indeed. You wish to squire for me again, lad?'

Ian nodded.

'Daren Hightower's done it again!' The head of the guild exclaimed theatrically. 'He's been using this whole missing caravans as a pretence to tax his buyers more and cut his workers' wages as if he wasn't just getting fatter off of it! He needs to be taught a lesson. I think a certain pre-war trinket would suffice in order to set a whole lot of wrongdoings right!'

'And you have that and good authority?' Tycho asked. 'The getting richer part?'

'My friend, my filthy rats are very good at skulking around. Comes with the stealing things trade.'

'I see… So you'd like us to rob him?'

'Just remove a certain diamond necklace from his possession. We can use it to do a whole lot of good to the people here in the Hub.'

'We'll think about it…' Ian said. 'Tell us more…'

When they left the building almost an hour later Tycho was deep in thought.

'So... a bottle-cap for your thoughts?' Ian asked halfway back.

Tycho took a pause before responding. 'It all seems unclear to me. They're obviously committing a crime, but for the right cause... I don't know. I appreciate their good intentions but there are other ways of helping people out.'

'I doubt it.' Ian shrugged. 'So... What do we do about his proposal?'

The ranger sighed, 'give me a bit of time to think.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-03 01:23 AM

Matthew stopped by the open door to one of the 'sleeping rooms' and looked inside. Keri was sat by the table, sharpening her combat knife while Tabitha was fast asleep with her back to the door. He looked at her sleeping form and once more considered asking for help, but decided against it. He smiled. Whatever comes, he was ready to embrace it. He thought a lot about it, and it finally became obvious to him. Daren must die or everyone in the vault must. It was as simple as that. The vault dweller knew he'd regret not doing that, but he suppressed it. It won't be just him doing the deed, but the entire Vault 13 together.

Keri gave him a glimpse without turning her head, her monotone scratching of steel not even slowing down. He nodded and left the building alone, Dogmeat sleeping restlessly on the floor by his bed.

A minute later Ian approached Tycho whom Matthew passed on his way out through the reception.

'I'm heading up to the Heights. You coming?'

Tycho sighed. 'I've been thinking about it… And I think I'd rather not. I understand the entire 'greater good' thing you're operating under but at the very least it seems like a slippery thing. There are other ways, you know.'

Ian was a local here in the Hub and knew pretty damn well there was not but he decided not to say that. 'I see where you're coming from. You won't rat me out, will you?' He smiled.

'No,' Tycho sighed feigning irritation. 'You just go ahead. And if you insist on taking that road make sure I'm oblivious to it.'

Ian's smile broadened. 'Deal.'

He turned to leave but stopped at the door and turned around again.

'And Tycho? I'm doing it for the best of reasons, though that's in the eye of the beholder. I want you to know that.'

The ranger nodded and the merc disappeared into the night.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-04 01:49 AM

It wasn't hard if he put his mind to it. He was apparently quite comfortable in the shadows, a fact proven in Shady Sands, the Khan base, and Irwin's Farm. He assumed he would have to learn the patterns of the guards' patrolling, but they proved to be way too lazy for patterns… or movement altogether. He was apparently quite comfortable with infiltration as well, his self confidence taking a huge growing leap as he opened the locked window at the back of the house with but a knife. That same knife was now centimetres from the throat of Daren Hightower, sleeping on a single bed in a small room despite being married for an obvious reason: with all the snoring Matthew could've stormed in stomping a pair of army boots and no one would notice.

There was a man that had Matt's knife on his throat and was at his mercy.

Matthew's hand shook just slightly. He really didn't want to do that, he didn't even want to be standing right there right then, but that was something he just had to do. For the vault…

'Yes, for the vault.' He thought to himself as he closed his eyes. This was not action of his and it was not a decision of his. It was the vault's. It was theirs.

He gently placed a pillow on the man's face. The more he concentrated on the idea that he was a mere puppet of the vault the less present he felt, and thus he also felt all the less scared and disgusted.

'For my people.' He though grimly as he pressed down on the pillow and slit the man's throat. The man woke up with a jerk and started thrashing and trying to scream, but apparently living with such a loud sleeper made the other residents too much of heavy sleepers to notice. The thrashing died down. There was blood all over the man and all over Matthew's pants. He got baptised in the blood of Daren Hightower.

The vault dweller stood up slowly. The pillow was still on the face of the dead man. Maybe if it wasn't there, Matthew would have felt something: guilt, disgust, anything. Now he only felt anxiety, the need to leave before he is found. He only felt the need to complete his job.

The door to the room opened slowly. Adrenaline rushed to his veins and he jumped under the bed so he would not be found. A pair of boots stealthily made their way to the bed.

'What the hell…'

Saying he was surprised would have been an understatement.

It was Ian.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-04 04:17 AM

Ian basically pushed him back to Crimson Caravan headquarters, though the situation didn't allow for much of that. Matthew would sometimes dive into a dark alley or behind some pile of trash to hide from the city's patrolling officers and Ian would be afraid he'd run off, but the young man didn't so much as think about it. What he did think about was what he'd say to him once they reach safety. Would he understand? He probably wouldn't, he was just that sort of person, righteous no matter what. Another thought crossed his mind: he was a native here. It could be that he killed a person close to him.

As Ian dragged him into the Caravans office he decided then and there to just be honest and stand by his decision.

'What the _fuck_ did you just do?' He exclaimed angrily once they were inside. That took words right out of his mouth.

'I did… what I had to do for my people…'

'What?' The merc exclaimed incredulously. 'What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?'

'Did you do it?' Keri asked, entering the room half-asleep. 'He just killed somebody, right?'

Ian stared at her wide-eyed. 'You _knew_?'

Keri simply nodded. 'Not like he did it on a whim.'

More people were entering the room to see what the commotion was all about.

'I think we'd better take this somewhere more private.' Keri suggested. They quickly found themselves in a small bunk room, the three now joined by Tabitha, Tycho and Demetre.

'He did _what_?' The Caravan Company owner asked incredulously.

'Daren Hightower.' Ian confirmed. 'Slit his damned throat.'

Demetre was at a loss for words. Tycho glanced at Ian. It would've probably been better if he went along and got there earlier. That might've been avoided.

'What the hell were you thinking doing that?' Ian exclaimed again. Matthew took a deep breath. No point in saying sorry now, no point in wishing it away. All he could do was stand his ground.

'I'm a tool of the vault.' He thought to himself. 'That had to be done.'

'I had to kill him in order to attain the information necessary to save a lot of people.' Matthew replied evenly.

'From whom?'

'…Decker.' He admitted reluctantly. Ian's eyes bulged and he looked seconds away from hitting Matthew in the jaw. Demetre just looked like someone close to him just died.

'That's in-_fucking_-sane.' Ian shook his head.

'Hightower was a fucking leech anyway.' Keri shrugged. 'He didn't do anything but rake in profits from the fact that he was the one who helped found them and acted as an overpaid middleman between manual labourers and such. He was useless.'

Demetre stared at her wide-eyed. 'You don't really mean that.' He stated.

'I do. I only speak the truth.'

'So now your people can be saved, then, right?' Tabitha asked. Matthew nodded in response. 'Then that was the way to go. I agree with Keri, from I've heard of the man he was nothing but a leech. Besides, what is his life compared to the lives of… how many people are there back at your home?'

'Over a thousand.'

'Over a thousand.' She repeated. 'Seems like a worthy cause to me.'

Ian blinked incredulously. 'Are we even talking about the same thing?'

'That's just criminal. We should lock him up.' Demetre suggested.

'We are not doing that.' Keri said adamantly, looking him straight in the eye. He held the gaze and returned it and they got into a staring fight. He averted his eyes in defeat and she won. He just couldn't say no to her, she was his daughter, and whatever excuse she had for the kid in mind she would probably be right in the grand scheme of things. She always was.

'So…' Matthew stood up. 'Are you going to lock me up or not?'

Silence fell across the room. Demetre stared at his own feet. Ian looked like he was about to protest, but that almost angry expression on Tabitha's face did wonders to silence him. He then adopted a look like he was about to fly into a rage but said nothing.

'In that case,' the vault dweller continued, 'I'll be off. I still have some stuff to do until I make use of that terrible thing I've just done.'

He picked his rucksack up from the floor.

'Are you at least sorry?' Ian asked slowly, looking at him as if the answer to that question is going to mean everything.

'I am.' Matt replied honestly. 'And I wish there was another way, but with all the lives on the line… I'm sorry.'

Demetre snorted. 'You shouldn't be telling _us_ that.'

'I know.' Matt nodded. 'Thank you for your hospitality. I'll try and make sure you don't have to see me again.'

He left the room and it fell silent

'We should really just turn him in.' Ian finally murmured.

'No you won't.' Tabitha stated matter-of-factly. 'You know what's at stake.'

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-04 05:29 AM

The dawn was already breaking when Matthew entered the slums of the Old Town, which he pegged during his previous wandering about looking for the chip as the greatest conflux of slums where he could find refuge. The only alternative was staying in the Maltese Falcon and that just didn't appeal to him.

He was scared shitless. In order to accomplish his quest he had abandoned all of his friends, whom he was massively indebted to, and killed an innocent. The former was enough to make him scared and disgusted and the latter did three times as much: he was disgusted at murder, disgusted at being forced to do such a thing and, honestly, disgusted that he just got away with it like that. He used the whole situation in Vault 13 as his personal excuse, but seeing it pass so easily made him disgusted at the surface world, seeing as how it was so easy to get away with things.

He used to want to be a mercenary. To live up here and make his own fortune. Now he wanted only to escape this world, to escape what he just did.

The slums stood silent in the morning twilight. He looked around to determine which would be emptier as he didn't really feel like talking right then. Dogmeat was by his side, panting, looking at the slums without any concept of Matthew's worries. Matthew envied it that and was glad to at least have the mutt as company. It was the only one in this world he felt useful to.

He opened the door to one of the abandoned buildings. He saw four men inside, all in leather outfits, three sleeping on bedrolls and one sitting his back to the wall in the dim light of an oil lamp.

'Sorry.' Matt muttered as he was about to close the door. The man keeping watch frowned and drew a gun.

'Shit!' Matthew took a big jump back, shutting the door in the progress. A second later the sound of a shot pierced the morning tranquillity and a 10mm bullet pierced the wooden door. Matthew cursed again, jumped behind a corner, threw down his backpack and struggled to draw his 10mm pistol from it.

'Domeat! Come here!' He exclaimed and the dog came to him, only to be shoved hastily behind his owner.

By the time the man emerged from the door, his gun ready to fire at him, Matthew had already drawn his pistol and switched off the safety. He ducked behind the corner as the man shot and then suddenly jumped forward and shot back. He got him in the stomach.

'Shit, shit, shit, fucking shit.' Matthew swore inside his head receding behind the corner, noticing the other three men leave the building, their pistols in their hands. Dogmeat was growling and looked ready to jump at their throats.

'If they're smart, they'll try to surround me.' He thought as he walked backwards around another corner, pushing Dogmeat behind him. As soon as he did, a man indeed emerged from around the corner trying to get him from the back. He didn't expect Matt to be there yet still they both shot at the same time, the man hitting the wall beside Matt and Matt himself hitting the building behind the attacker. Alas, before any of them could really see it, Dogmeat was upon the assailant, his teeth sinking seep into his throat.

Matt went stiff for just a moment before turning around and got ready to shoot the other two approaching, not even thinking about telling Dogmeat to come to his side while the dog was tearing through human flesh. He realized he's been quite lucky so far and he was scared.

He could hear their footsteps near the corner when a shot rang out from some distance away. He heard a man hit the wall of the building and took the chance. He peeked around the corner and shot the sole surviving attacker in the head.

His hands shaking, the vault dweller slowly stood up and took a look at the man the mysterious shooter got. He was lying by the wall dead, a hole in his heart.

The young man slowly looked around for the shooter and soon saw him approaching him at a shamble.

If his blood hadn't been already laced with adrenaline his reaction would've been a lot worse. The man that approached was a mutant, kind of like what he'd imagined when he'd play mutants and army men as a child. His skin had a strong green tint and seemed leathery and almost like some of it had melted at some point. His right eye was missing and his eyebrow had melted over the hole. The top of his skull was bare as if he'd been scalped, the sand-coloured dome surrounded by frail grey hairs and some misshapen mutation that looked a cross between a horn and a small tree was growing from the side of his head. The mutant wore nothing but tattered brown jeans and Matthew noticed that some of the frail-looking mutant's ribs were literally showing.

'Thank you.' Matthew nodded as the man approached.

The lipless man tried to make something approximating a smile. 'You're welcome, sonny. These folk looked like trouble the day they arrived.'

'Who are they? They attacked out of nowhere…'

'Hell if I know.' The man's voice was coarse, as if merely speaking could burst his vocal chords. 'They just moved in a while back, shifty characters, those. Would only go pick up supplies at night, one at a time.'

'God, I'm just glad they're gone.'

'M-hm.' The mutant nodded. 'What do you say we help ourselves to those things they won't be needing anymore and get out before the cops come?'

Matthew grinned and nodded. For some reason, he felt alive again, as testified by the fact that he could feel the morning's chill against his skin. Nothing like being attacked by murderous outlaws…

Dogmeat, its face bloodied but eyes still friendly and obedient, returned to Matthew's side as he was going through the possessions of the assailant fallen by the door. A curious sound suddenly caught his attention.

'Come on, let's high-tail it.' The mutant said as he approached. Matthew silenced him by putting his finger to his mouth and the mutant listened up. There were sounds coming from the inside.

Matthew went in cautiously and listened up. There was a door on the other side of the room, probably a bathroom, and there were moans and sounds of struggle coming from the other side. The mutant walked in slowly, put his hand on the knob, turned it and pulled. The door was locked.

'You reckon someone's inside?' The mutant asked.

'Obviously.' Matt said as he approached the door and produced a set of lockpicks, briefly remembering his recently lost companions whom the set belonged to. Within the next three minutes the door was unlocked and the two witnessed a man, tied up and gagged, lying on the floor in the small bathroom, struggling to make some noise to catch someone's attention.

Matthew approached him, produced a knife, and cut the ropes and the gag. The man stood up and shook his head. He seemed scared and malnourished.

'Thank you!' He said in a voice, his throat obviously dried up. 'Thank you!'

'You're welcome.' Matthew nodded. 'Would you happen to know who these ruffians are?' He asked out of curiosity. It was nice to feel something like that again.

'No idea. They just kidnapped me while…' He fell silent and reconsidered his next words. 'While I was out in the wastes. I'm Talus, by the way.'

'Matthew.' The man nodded. The young man gave brief glare at the mutant and pretended he didn't notice him.

'Well… Thanks for the rescue. I'll be off now.'

'Are you sure you'll be okay?'

'Yeah,' he nodded, 'I will. Thank you very much!'

He smiled again and walked out, past the mutant and the vault dweller. The two exited the building soon after and stood side by side. Matthew surveyed the surrounding houses.

'So… We scram?' The mutant suggested.

'Yeah.' Matthew nodded but didn't move.

'Do you… have anywhere to go?' The mutant asked.

'No. Not anymore.'

'Well, you can come over to my house then!'

Matthew looked at the mutant and smiled appreciatively. 'Thanks.'

The ghoul smiled back. 'You're kindly welcome. Name's Harold.'

Matthew shook his hand. 'Matthew.'

The two left the house and started for Harold's home, Matthew's thoughts returning just briefly to the recent fight with his... friends. It was funny how he could be so sad one moment and then suddenly befriend a zombie-like mutant and come over to his house like it was the most natural thing. He wondered how much of it was just adrenaline.

The two approached the house Harold lived in to find some elderly man in tattered clothes writhing on the ground.

'I lost!' The man was shouting. 'I lost the game!'

'Fucking hell, Slappy!' Harold exclaimed and approached the man. Matthew was about to come up and help when a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned around and saw the same woman who led him to Decker the first time.

'You again.'

'Me again.' The woman mocked irritated, as if she was challenging him to say a word about it. 'Decker's congratulating you, saying you done a good job, yadda yadda, go kill Jain.'

'Who's Jain?' He asked confused.

'That's for you to find out.' The woman said venomously, turned around and walked away. Matthew watched her go frozen. Of course, Decker said he'd have to prove himself first. So it was the blood of Daren _and__ someone__ else_ that stand between him and the salvation of his people. That is provided he won't be asked to kill any _more_ people.

The man who was writing on the ground a moment before shambled right past him, completely calm, and shook him awake form his musings. He turned back to Harold who seemed to have been waiting for him to notice him again.

'Let's head inside.' The old mutant invited.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-04 01:07 PM

With the trade paralysed the Crimson people didn't have anything to do except drink and gossip. Ian, Keri and Tycho were drinking again, only in Keri's room this time. Her room was small and housed only a single bed, a small table with a chair, and an old worn clothes drawer. Despite being the smallest room around it at least provided the daughter of the company's owner some privacy. Tabitha was off doing something and they didn't even fathom a guess at where Matthew might be. A night's sleep did little to change anyone's opinions stated last night, maybe except for Ian. He wasn't angry any more, only sad and a bit irritated. He felt it wasn't fair that all that shit came to pass. He just felt deeply disappointed.

'So,' Keri started after a long silence, 'your girlfriend's off working for the Far Go folks.'

'She what?' Ian snapped up his head, surprised.

'I said she's doing that thing for the Far Go folk, looking into the missing caravans.'

'Oh. I thought… I already knew that. And it's not like she's working for Far Go, she's doing it for the Hub.'

'I know and I agree wholeheartedly,' Keri said evenly, 'I'm just conveying what the people are saying.'

'Oh.' He rolled his eyes and supported his chin with his hand, elbow on the small table, exhausted. 'I don't give a shit.'

'It's curious how they're not just blindly following whatever you do.' She mused loudly. 'They usually do. Maybe you should show a bit more affection to her.'

Ian froze. 'I suppose.' He said, trying to sound even.

'You haven't talked with Rhonda at all, have you?'

Ian shook his head. 'I will. Today, probably.'

'It's not like you to be stuck like this.' Keri noticed.

'It's a love thing. You wouldn't understand.'

'Of course I wouldn't.' Keri shrugged. 'That thing's irrational.'

Ian rolled his eyes. Typical of that woman.

'You just want to tease me right now, don't you?'

'No. I want to urge you to do something about this situation, it's a bomb waiting to explode.'

'I won't even fathom a guess at how you found out.'

'Fine.'

Silence fell between them.

'And what of Matt?' Kirren asked finally.

Ian took a deep breath. 'He's on a mission.' He said quietly. 'A lot of peoples' lives are in his hands. What he did was unforgivable, true, but I think that doing the right thing now would be… wrong.'

Tycho's head perked up. 'Incarcerating him would be the right thing to do, yes, but he's got a pretty good excuse. I keep wondering, though, if there wasn't a better way to do that.'

'Doubt it.' Ian said.

'He can't go around solving problems this way whatever reason for his actions.'

'So what would you do?'

'I'd watch him. If he gets away with it he might decide he can get away with things like that in the future. Then there'll be no more hope for him.'

'What do you mean?' Keri frowned.

'Have you ever heard the metaphor 'seeds of evil'?' Tycho asked. 'It describes it the best. Seeds of evil are planted within a person and grow if left unchecked. Only in reality, it isn't actual seeds of evil, but a malicious Modus Operandi and the idea that it is the way to go, like they're righteous and doing nothing wrong. He needs to be taught the lesson that he cannot go that way.'

'At the very least,' Ian opined, 'after he gets his info he shouldn't be allowed to come back here.'

Tycho studied the man. 'You seem to be put down by your own idea.' He opined.

Ian thought for a moment. 'I was so angry at him yesterday, I hated his guts for what he did. But… I think the point of the matter was that I felt betrayed. He's a nice guy and when you think about it you can sympathize with his reasons for killing Daren. But… as you said, it might end wrong. That's why I proposed it.'

The other two thought about it for a moment.

'And Daren wasn't all bad like you said.' Ian addressed Keri. 'He was quite alright as a person.'

Keri frowned. 'You're only saying that because he let a lowly merc like you get inside the panties of his daughter.'

Tycho's eyebrow shot up.

'He's cancer.' Keri continued. 'Unproductive and redundant in his role in this place.'

'You mean 'of little practical use'.' Ian rolled his eyes. 'You only care about that.'

'It's the only practical thing to care about.' She smiled mockingly. 'Anyway, on the subject of Rhonda's panties, you need to dive into them soon or break it down to her that you won't be doing it no more. And actually keep that promise.'

Ian nodded absent-mindedly. He had to chose between Rhonda and Tabitha and do it soon before he causes any irreparable damage.

Tycho stood up. 'I have places to be. The two of you should talk, I think.'

He nodded and left the two people alone.

'So.' Keri poured some whiskey into a shot glass and crossed her leg on the other. 'You're stuck between two women…'

'Keri, no offence, but you're shit at these sorts of things.'

'I ain't gonna solve it for you.' She replied evenly. 'But let's look at it rationally. You love Rhonda.'

'I do.'

'Elaborate?'

He thought about it for a moment. 'I can't explain it. It's like we're meant to be together. It's something special… Like a secret only the two of us can glimpse upon, only when we're together.'

'And Tabitha?'

'She's rough, her opinions are clear and strong, she fights for what she believes in, and she's smart.'

'Okay, first of all, you named Tabitha's good features. Which means you either learnt them by heart and are flinging shit, or it's a puzzle and you're just fiddling with the pieces you feel right, unlike how it is with Rhonda.'

'I think it's more of a puzzle with Rhonda.'

'It's not. You can pinpoint the essence exactly, it's just the delivery that's shit.'

'I think… I think I just feel… alive with Tabitha. Natural. Like it's meant to be, only it doesn't feel so grand. And I don't want it to feel grand. I think it's not meant to be grand. Between us. Or with me with the girl I love. I don't know.'

'So I see.' She smirked. 'You were still in love with Rhonda when you met Tabitha?'

He thought about it for a moment.

'We're so used to being apart for long periods of time that I learnt to… extinguish that feeling… Or more like freeze it, put it on hold. I was doing my best to suppress it. Then I met her and it's like at the beginning of a road… And I followed it to its natural conclusion.'

'So both of them make you feel special?'

He nodded.

'Any other factors?' She asked. He thought about it.

'All my friends don't like Tabitha.'

Keri nodded slowly. 'That's true. They're retarded, though. She's awesome.'

Ian raised an eyebrow.

'What?' Keri frowned. 'Can't I like stuff?'

'It's… not your usual MO. You don't like Rhonda, though?'

'I can't say I don't. She's got a head full of strange ideas. The few times we meet I call her out because I think that's constructive, since she listens to what I have to say. It's like I add more variables for her to process and make a better decision.'

Ian snickered. 'Math analogy.'

Keri rolled her eyes. 'It's not math. Whatever. Anyway, you shouldn't be concerned with what other think. You never really were.'

'I… Missed them.'

Keri raised an eyebrow. 'Okay, what did you do to the real Ian?'

He rolled his eyes. 'Oh spare me. I always did care, I just didn't show it. Rhonda being so fragile I just got used to being a rock but beside Tabitha…'

She laughed, 'so you're true form is that of a sentimental fool!'

'Fuck you, Keri.' He murmured, fake irritation hiding embarrassment.

'If you ask me I think Tabitha might be a temporary thing. Or it could be permanent too, it's too soon to say. Either way, it'll do you good.'

Ian nodded slowly.

'You think about that and go see Rhonda tonight.'

Ian nodded again.

'Now get out of my room and think!'


	12. Crossroad, Part Three

Matt was sat on some Old Town's bench. One of its legs of were missing and the entire thing was leaning diagonally. He spent the night at Harold's. The old man, a ghoul as he named himself, as he found out, seemed to be old, older than he could remember himself, actually. Matthew deduced he was over eighty.

The ghoul seemed interesting from what little they talked about while they had breakfast, courtesy of Matthew as the mutant was too poor for proper food. Matthew would've loved to keep listening to him, but was awfully tired and Harold, upon seeing that, insisted that he went to bed while he just strolled out somewhere, stating that he usually slept later in the day, when the streets were more crowded. He woke up alone that afternoon and now here he was, reluctantly and with much discourse thinking about how to get around finding who Jain is and how to kill her without drawing attention. He was honestly trying to think about that, but his mind kept drifting elsewhere.

He kept thinking about how lonely he felt and how one of the worst parts of him committing murder was how that cost him his friends. They were the only stable thing in the surface world and without them he felt lost, not to mention a traitor. And he'd lost him so he'd save his people, a truly worthy cause, but in the brief time he'd been acting under that pretence he already grew disgusted of it. He pictured himself as an extension of the vault's will, and that just cost him a lot. He very much doubted he could go the rest of the way alone.

And then there was the fact that just like he was reluctant to go ask them for more help after all they've done so much to him he was now a bit reluctant to go back to them, thinking it'd be terribly selfish on his part.

He'd been desperately trying not to think about his quest and the ticking clock because that'd paralyse him. Now he actually did something towards that and he felt the most fearful he ever had.

He sighed and cupped his forehead. For some reason he felt like throwing up. Like that would help. Or just going to bed, hiding underneath a pile of blankets and waiting for that whole thing to just blow over.

'We've been wondering where you're at.' He heard someone say. He looked up and saw Tabitha standing in front of him, looking cheery and pleasant, but not in a childishly excited way. In a Tabitha Bleu way.

'Hi.' He said quietly. She didn't say anything for a moment and then just sat down next to him on the crooked bench.

'You're feeling like shit, eh?'

Matthew just nodded his head.

'Figured as much.' She said cheerfully. 'I'm looking for clues as to the caravan disappearances. I thought maybe you wanted to help me?'

The question caught Matt unaware. She didn't hate his guts? What was that about?

'I understand you feel like shit,' she said seeing he was too disturbed to answer, 'and the best remedy to that is distraction. Finding something to do. Like… oh, I don't know, helping me solve this case? Because really, I'm out of ideas.'

'You don't hate my guts?' Matthew barely managed to ask.

'Your actions, even with your reasons backing them up, are pretty dire,' she replied, suddenly serious, 'and I can't say I approve fully. But instead of abandoning this I can at least make sure you're making amends. And please don't do that sort of shit again?'

'Just like that?'

Tabitha looked at him confused.

'I just murdered someone and you're letting it slide like that.' He explained. 'That's insane. Disgusting, even.'

Tabitha rolled her eyes. 'You're a curious one.'

'I should be locked up.'

'Would you like that?'

'Doesn't mean I don't deserve that.'

'Would it achieve anything?'

Matthew couldn't answer.

'So… You're going to help me?'

Matthew raised his head and looked her in the eye. Then he leaned over and hugged her tightly. Her eyes went wide in surprise.

'Okay…'

'Thanks.' He whispered. 'I owe you a whole fucking lot.'

'Okay, okay, now let me breathe.' He broke the embrace. 'Okay. In a nutshell, I'm chasing ghosts. More specifically, a ghoul by the name of Harold who'd heard of the Death Claw, one of the possible-impossible culprits.'

'Harold? I know him! Spent the night at his house!'

Tabitha laughed. 'The crazy shit that happens in the world…'

A couple of minutes later they were back at Harold's small cluttered room, seated and listening.

'Used to be a trader.' Harold explained. 'Was a great shot too. No matter how poor I got after getting turned into a ghoul I still kept my old trusty ten-mill.'

'That saved my ass.' Matthew admitted.

'How exactly did you become like this?' Tabitha asked, quite fascinated. She never had a lengthy conversation with a ghoul before.

'Funny you should ask.' The mutant chuckled. 'You mentioned before that you came here about the Death Claw and these two stories are sort of intertwined.'

'You see,' he coughed as he began his story, 'there were many cases of missing caravans years ago and I was one of the few who did something. We thought it was the Death Claw and decided to go hunt it down. T'was years ago that I came to the Hub, a young man... Handsome, even.' He started laughing, but it soon turned into a coughing fit. 'We were losing a lot of caravans, mostly in the northwest. I was one o'the biggest... No! _The_ biggest merchant in the Hub so I took it upon meself to get to the bottom of this. So me and some capable men went to the northeast lookin' for the source.'

'What did you find?' Matthew asked, already captivated anew.

'An underground lab of sorts.' Harold coughed again. 'T'was a massive labyrinth, full of robots. For some reason they were still kickin', after all these years. Most of us died there... Francine...' Another coughing fit caught his lungs. 'There were only two left at the end: me, and Richard Gray, a physician. We made it to the bottom of the facility...'

'Was it a vault?' Matthew suddenly asked loudly.

'No...' Harold shook his head. 'That was no place for people to live. It was more like... a giant lab! Computers, machines... Robots...'

'What did you find at the bottom?' Tabitha asked.

'Goo. Lots and lots of goo. Giant vats upon vats with narrow walkways and dangling cranes in-between. I could've sworn the stuff was glowing!'

'Radioactive material?' Tabitha guessed.

'Doubt it.' Matthew dismissed the guess absent-mindedly. 'Wouldn't make sense.'

'What happened next?' Tabitha asked again.

'Don't know.' The ghoul shrugged and took a large gulp of the booze. 'Were walkin' around the vats when a crane hit me and I just...' He broke into a coughing fit.

'How did you survive?' Matthew asked wide-eyed.

'Didn't. Got killed.' Harold joked starting to laugh, but it once again turned into a coughing fit, something that made Matthew wince. For some reason the man wanted the ghoul to stay in good health.

'Nah, just pullin' yer leg.' Harold continued. 'Have no idea how I survived. Just woke up in the desert. Some traders found me soon after. A good thing too as I was already starving... and beginning to change.'

'Well... the mutations are consistent with... severe radiation poisoning...' Matthew offered weakly.

'Could be...' The ghoul shrugged.

'What happened to this Richard?' Tabitha asked.

'Don't know.' Harold shrugged once again. 'Never saw him again. He's probably dead.'

'So... you have no idea what's causing it?' Tabitha asked.

'Maybe the robots broke out and came here. Or maybe it was the real Death Claw.'

'What do you know about it?' Tabitha asked again. The little ex-course about how he turned into a ghoul was interesting but did little to help them find the Death Claw.

'Yes!' Harold replied excitedly. 'Long ago, in Los Angeles! A lizard taller than any man and three times as big! Has giant claws and skin so rough bullets can't do nothin' against it.'

'Any tips?'

'Well... You can try shootin' it in th'eyes... but it'll hypnotise ya and then... you're 'et!' Harold flailed his arms for dramatic effect and broke into another coughing fit.

'Well... Thank you, Harold, that was helpful.' Tabitha said standing up. 'We'll inform you if we get to the bottom of this.' She bowed slightly and left the room. Matthew hesitated. His conversations with the ghoul yesterday were all but lost to him due to the stress and he suddenly started feeling a lot of sympathy for the poor soul.

'Have you been having the coughing fits for long?' He finally asked. Harold chuckled.

'A year or two. I guess my lungs are just dead... like me!' He laughed again.

'Oh... I see. I'm sorry, I know nothing about... your condition.'

'S'okay.' The ghoul said. 'You said you were some sort of doctor?'

'Some sort.' Matthew smiled weakly. 'In a theoretical sense.'

'Well, no need to fret about my health. Heard ghouls up in Necropolis have been coughin' like this since the War and they're still kickin'.'

'There are ghouls in Necropolis?'

'_Only_ ghouls. They say they somehow survived in th'city. Beats me how they did that.'

'Well... Thank you. I'll see you later.'

Harold nodded courtly and Matthew left the room, his head still light with the captivation with the stories the zombie-like man had to tell.

They entered the fresh air of the outside and Tabitha chose to spoil it by lighting a cigarette. Matthew was feeling conflicted. For some reason, while Harold's story was interesting and captivating, it made him feel a lot worse, probably because Matthew saw a man who was accomplished and probably hurt no one along the way, quite the contrary, exactly, and now fate had chosen Matt to receive the coupon to let him become the stuff of legend, and all he was doing about it was killing innocents and alienating friends.

'There must be another way,' he thought, 'Decker cannot be the only one to have access to that information…'

Then it occurred to him that a thought had formed in his head moment before the girl Decker had employed first approached him. He was led astray by the hope she brought and forgot all about it, seduced by an easier way to solve his problem.

'No wastelander community should be able to operate Vault-Tek equipment…' He recalled his train of thoughts, 'but maybe I'm looking not for a post-war community but for another vault.'

That didn't seem as hopeless as it did the first time.

'How would I go about finding the locations of other vaults?' Matthew asked aloud. Tabitha laughed.

'By being in one I'd reckon.'

'I'd be able to find it if I knew at least the general location where to look, I do know what they look like and where they could be hidden, I guess.' He said. 'I believe the vaults were being advertised before the war and some of these advertisements could've survived. Maybe one of them holds some information about at least the general area where it's located.'

Tabitha thought about it. 'There's a bookstore on the edge of the Market District. You could try there.' He jumped on his feet. 'Go ahead, I'll sit here and think.'

Matthew nodded vigorously and ran off, full of hope again, unconsciously pushing away all thoughts about the downside of double-crossing Decker.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-04 05:29 PM

'You're shitting me!' Matthew laughed, his words dedicated to no one in particular as he stood alone outside the bookstore with Dogmeat lazily panting by his side, a newly purchased and downloaded file from a holo-tape displayed on the screen of his detached Pip-Boy. It was an old advertisement of Vault 12, conveniently located in the city of Bakersfield, which, as he'd already come to know, was called Necropolis these days.

'Built with great care to withstand even the strongest earthquakes,' He read on with a smile on his face. This was perfect, the vault was very likely to be intact, and he got the code to communicate with inside of the vault using the outside control panel before he left, so this could actually be quite easy. Except for the ghoul stuff, but if Necropolis was full of ghouls like Harold a visit there wasn't shaping up to be such a bad one. Then there was also the trouble of actually finding the entrance in the complicated surroundings of a pre-war metropolis, but if there was sentient life there they are bound to have found the entrance and he would need only to get his hands on its location somehow.

As he started back towards the Old Town he thought back to Decker. The man would be mad at him, would probably hunt him down. Alas, it seemed unimportant at that moment. Finally making this breakthrough Matthew had to admit looking for the water chip was all he was about: he was a mere puppet of the Overseer who was sent here to represent the interests of Vault 13 and if he completed his task, if he cashed out that ticket of fortune, whatever Decker would have in mind for him would be unimportant.

He returned to Tabitha cheerful and was intrigued to see she was grinning as well. The man who was writhing on the ground by Harold's home the day before shouting something about the game stood next to her, looking excited.

'Matthew, meet Slappy.' She smiled.

'I've already had the pleasure.' Matthew frowned. 'Good to see you're making friends.'

A trace of anger washed over Tabitha's face, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

'Slappy here approached me with tales of the Death Claw.' She explained. 'He says he can show us to where it lives.'

'Sure do!' The man exclaimed suddenly and then looked around paranoid and continued in a silent, swift drivel. ''Tis the Death Claw! The Death Claw's killing, destroying the caravans, the Claw of Death, the Claw that is Dead, big, big, very big, with big big claws that bring death, big black big claws of death! Sleeps under the city he does, at daylight, he can't smell blood in the daylight he can't, he can't make his claws kill at night, he hides under the blankets of the cold cold green-flickering earth and hunts at deathtime...'

'Awesome.' Tabitha smiled. She was definitely enjoying this. 'Lead the way then, Slappy!'

'Are you sure we can trust that madman?' Matthew asked as they went. Tabitha shrugged.

'Maybe. I'm just hunting ghosts now, any rumour I can get my hands on. That's why I spent some time around Crimson Caravans asking if there was anything approximating a flesh-eating sandstorm around here.' She laughed. 'Oh, and they said they heard of one, but it was way in Arizona, or Kansas.' She laughed again. 'Hey, you might not think it but that's how truth is uncovered. You start with rumours about dragons and you find out that they're barely fire-breathing geckos.'

Matthew was stunned for a moment.

'I kind of wanna tell you're a disturbed person, but since you're talking about actual world... yeah. Shit.'

She elbowed him in the ribs playfully. 'You need to open up your mind a little.'

'I noticed.' He laughed nervously. 'I mean, there's a lot of crazy shit a seven-year-old cooped up in a steel dungeon can come up with but when you actually see what the real world is like... some seriously messed up shit.'

'You're a trooper. You're still not insane. Or dead.'

Matthew paused for a couple of seconds before continuing. 'I'm just... thankful to be here and see this, no matter how fucked up it is.'

Matthew registered that at the first indication that he was going to say something serious, her face became serious as well. He considered it strange that he suddenly noticed that. It... didn't seem like her.

'I mean, there is some strange stuff up here, in all kinds of flavour.' Matthew continued. 'You and Ian are movie-grade badasses, there are two-headed cows, bottle caps for currency, flesh eating sandstorms and fire-breathing lizards... seriously awkward... Then there's people like Harold... and other poor people I've seen: homeless, addicted, mutated... But after the stale life in the vault you come to appreciate it all, everything... and I...'

With those words spoken a realization dawned on him.

'I guess that's why I'm so eager to become a gun-toting merc no matter what Tycho has to say about morals. It's just... you can actually be someone... I'm not talking about the possibilities, I mean that anything you do up here, it... feels a lot more real than anything else I ever had or probably could have in the vault.'

'That's why you got that computer thing off your wrist?' She asked neutrally.

'Among other stuff... You noticed?'

'I'm not dumb.'

'Yeah. Sorry.' He smiled and paused. 'But I don't know anything about anything anymore. I killed Daren. There's probably no place for me up here no more.'

Tabitha shrugged. 'We've had this argument before. About how easily people die up here.'

'It's different.' Matthew insisted. 'This is murder.'

'It _is_ a mistake, but, as Keri would say, if you lost one person, why lose another by hanging or jailing?'

Matthew didn't reply.

'But you're okay with killing raiders and such now, I understand?' She asked.

Matthew nodded slowly. 'I can't feel anything shooting at raiders any more. And I managed to kill Daren by... It doesn't matter.'

'I bet Tycho's heartbroken.' She shrugged. 'But I'd say it's good. It means you'll live longer. Probably even long enough to save your people.'

Matthew thought about it. 'If I'm okay killing people it only means I'm okay killing people. But I can still not do it if it's wrong.'

Tabitha sighed. 'Listen, there's a lot of bad people in the world,' she started in a somewhat tired voice, 'many of them would shoot you as soon as look at you or, more dangerously, wait until you have your back to them. You shouldn't kill people just because you can, but you also shouldn't _not_ kill people because you can. Everyone has an excuse, you see, and if you listen to them you might end up confused and then get a bullet in the head. Or cause someone else to get a bullet in the head. Just be smart about it.'

Matthew nodded, thinking about. They were silent the rest of the way into a small cave in a hill side a few kilometres from town.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-04 08:08 PM

Ian opened the door to her room and she slowly turned around and looked at him from the small stool in front of a table with a dusty and greyed mirror. He looked back at her. She looked completely normal, calm and official, in her black pre-war dress and a black shawl, her hair in a tight bun. She liked the colour black for its elegance, though now it served as mourning apparel. There was loss in her eyes, but they weren't dark nor reddish. Ian sighed and went inside.

'I'm sorry about your father.' He said sombrely.

Rhonda nodded. The ocean of sadness beyond her eyes rippled for a moment and then returned to its heart-wrenching stillness.

'Thank you.' She said evenly, if somewhat tired. 'I guess Decker had about enough of him. The Society should really take action against him, he's a stick in the wheels of our economy.' She turned around and looked into the mirror into her expressionless face, then undid the small string that held her bun together and let her hair loose.

He slowly walked up to her from behind, concerned. She looked at his reflection in the mirror.

They weren't in that special place of their own.

'You've been overworking again?' He asked silently. She sighed deeply and looked down, as if contemplating a difficult problem. She finally shrugged after a while. 'You always overwork when you're not feeling good.'

'Makes me feel better.' She said softly, as if pleading, her head still down.

'Everything in moderation.' He gently put his hands up on her shoulders. She looked up at his reflection again, then slowly raised one hand for him to wrap around on her shoulder.

'You've changed.' She stated without any expression.

'I've been gone a while.'

She kept looking at his reflection. The merc's mind was racing. The only reasonable thing would've been to tell her about Tabitha. But he couldn't. She was already hurting and here he was about to pile more things up.

'I'm so glad we can be together again.' She said, studying him in the mirror. Ian pursed his lips. They remained silent for a couple of moments and then she slowly turned around on the stool and looked him up in the eyes. 'There's someone else.'

That statement was heartbreaking in the lack of feeling in it. Ian was wishing the Earth would open up and swallow him.

He nodded slowly.

'You love her more than you love me.'

Ian shook his head vigorously. The woman might be extremely smart but one of her faults was immediately believing her assumptions.

'So you still love me more?'

'I think... love isn't something you can measure and compare.'

She let go of his hand.

'You need to decide, one way or another. This isn't fair to anyone.'

He looked at her. They still weren't in that special place, there were still things that mattered apart from them. Only now did he realize how much he hungered for that feeling.

Or maybe it still could be?

Unsure, he leaned in and placed a light kiss on her cheek. She didn't move.

He wrapped his hand around her upper back and kissed her on the lips. She didn't move. He kissed her again and her lips moved ever-so-slightly, returning the kiss. He pressed on and soon his tongue was against her teeth, asking for permission to enter. She thought for a moment and granted it. Ian leaned in even more, adding extra fire into the kiss. Her hands moved up slowly and settled on his cheeks. The mercenary's heart was beating almost fast enough to jump out of his chest and euphoria spread throughout his whole body. It was different, though. It didn't feel like it did all these times before, it was something else, something chaotic and impossible to understand. It was euphoria, release, closeness, heat, but at the same time it felt like loss, distance, sorrow and bitterness. He closed his eyes tighter.

When he opened his eyes again the Moon was almost at its zenith, its light bating Ian through the parted curtains of Rhonda's room. The owner of the room was lying beside him, asleep and as naked as he was.

The man's gaze fixed on the Moon as he tried to recollect what had happened between the kiss and his awakening. He could remember a flurry of emotions, he could remember, though dimly, the shedding of clothes and the sensation of flesh rubbing against flesh, sparks turned to fire, and finally, the world slowly fading out with ecstasy crawling under his skin.

He blinked. That last bit never happened.

He thought about it again. It _did_ happen, but not tonight, only a lot of times a long time ago...

...before Tabitha.

His lip twitched into something resembling a smile upon thinking about her. He slowly turned his head and looked into the sleeping form of Rhonda.

Once he felt like the two of them were matching pieces of a puzzle destined to be together, or two trees with one's roots entangling the other's, completely inseparable. Now she seemed... just Rhonda. Another person in this world. Almost a foreign object. He slowly got out of bed and looked into the nocturnal city. Tabitha was out there somewhere...

His lip twitched again and there was warmth spreading through his stomach.

It was a moment before he realized that's all that mattered to him at that moment: he was looking at his home at his favourite time of the day and all he could think of was her. The Hub was only a place she was at. It was all about her.

He threw another look at the still sleeping figure of Rhonda and all he could think of were a thousand ways things between them would go wrong even if he clung to that emotion that was already lost. He could see himself growling old, lazy and bitter with her.

The Moon was shrouded by a small passing cloud when he slowly sneaked out of her house, sparing just a tiny bit of his thoughts to mourn the ended love.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-04 08:47 PM

'Where to now?' Matthew asked quietly as they approached another fork in the cave.

'Right. Always go right. Hit a dead end, retrace to the last fork and go left. We'll find something eventually.'

It was a bit strange that Matthew felt so uncomfortable in the caves. He was technically more of a subterranean person, but something about the threatening dark and the chaotic shape of the underground passages just made him feel uncomfortable. The caves would get wider and narrower as they went and each time they entered another underground hall he would feel extremely vulnerable: there were now more directions from which the Death Claw, whatever it was, could attack, and the spotlight Tabitha asked him to carry while she followed him with her shotgun was old and not too bright, definitely not helping the case. The two kept quiet, Matthew on constant alert trying to catch any sound that would pierce the dark quiet.

He speculated it was two hours in when he heard a barely audible shuffle of feet ahead. They were in one of the larger underground halls and Matthew was pointing the light to his right when he heard the noise. He froze up for merely a moment before pointing the light to the source of the sound.

Tabitha, not having heard any noise jumped up when the ray of light suddenly flew to the left and was now illuminating a giant sand-coloured scaly lizard: two meters tall, with short legs and gorilla-like arms it used for support, each with claws four times as big as a pitchfork and sharper than a scythe. The face of the beast was angular and its two small eyes were feral and menacing. The beast dashed forward with incredible speed and Matthew was barely quick enough to jump out of the way. Tabitha wasn't so quick to react and when the beast ran up to her and slashed its claws she dropped on the ground and rolled away losing her shotgun in the process. She frantically tried to keep her distance from the beast but it was upon her again before she knew it and its claw drew another violent arc. She jumped back but the beast's claws still managed to slash her upper left arm.

'Tabitha!' Matthew suddenly called out. 'Behind you! Up!'

Matthew had her shotgun in his hands already and the light was down on the ground, pointing at a row of stalagmites lined against the wall of the cave. The massive rock formations shared a single platform, maybe three and a half meters tall. The climb was steep but there were a lot of protruding rocks that made scaling it look at least manageable. Tabitha dashed for the platform, the creature dashing behind her and Matthew dashing after the beast and to the right to flank it.

A shot ripped the silence of the underground as Matthew shot the creature roughly to the legs, confident he won't it Tabitha in the process. The beast flinched and turned around to face him. Almost instinctively, Matthew let one rip in the overgrown lizard's face. The beast stumbled back in pain and without hesitation Matthew dropped the gun and dashed past the beast to the foot of the platform. Tabitha was almost at the top as Matthew began climbing with all haste, his trembling hands and feet often missing their footing. Tabitha made it to the top, hugged a stalagmite wither her right arm and reaching out towards Matthew with her left.

'Up! For fuck's sake, up!' She exclaimed. Matthew kicked off his current footing and let Tabitha drag him up. He was already reaching for a stalagmite to hug when he felt a sharp pain in his left leg. He struggled to reach safety with his left and somehow managed to steady himself, placing his right foot on a protruding piece of the rock half the size of his foot and hugging a stalagmite with his right hand. He closed his eyes and pushed himself into a sitting position between two stalagmites, way too close to each other for comfort.

'You okay?' Tabitha asked, her breath ragged. Matthew nodded and looked down at the beast. It tried to scale the steep slope but its limbs didn't make it any sort of a climber. They were safe for the moment, though the raging beast just below them wasn't about to give them a moment's rest. 'Your arm?'

'A scratch.' The merc dismissed the concern and diverted her eyes from the beast to Matthew. 'Holy fuck!' She exclaimed pointing towards his wounded limb. His entire lower leg was already drenched in red, the wound obviously serious. Matthew took a moment to notice the beast's claws were so sharp his jeans were actually cut, not torn.

'Right.' Matthew said through gritted teeth and wiggled around to get his pack off his back. Though his arms were shaking he made his best effort to calmly go through his stuff and look for something to fix up his leg, the slow methodological search and rehearsing of decent procedure gradually somewhat calming him down. Tabitha watched in awe as the vault dweller quickly and assuredly wrapped some small tube around his leg to decrease the bleeding, poured some alcohol on the wound to disinfect it, drew a large bent needle with a string already in it, and started sewing up the wound while the beast scratched at the slope, its claws flailing about so close to the two companions.

'You're good.' She complimented him, wide-eyed.

'M-hm' Matthew murmured with his lower lip between his teeth in concentration.

'Is it going to be fine?'

'M-hm.' He murmured again. 'Stimpaks can do wonders. Sorry I dropped the shotgun.'

'You did well by dropping it; you'd be halfway to that fucker's stomach if you hadn't. I think we can manage with you rifle...' Tabitha's gaze shifted from Matthew to the Death Claw. The creature's face was covered in its own blood and its eyes were closed. 'I... fuck, I think you got it in the eyes!'

'Lucky.' The vault dweller murmured, still concentrating on his work. He had to support his left leg on the knee of his right leg, which was supported by his foot rammed into the vertical slope, and had to hold them down with his hands so they wouldn't shake from exhaustion the uncomfortable situation caused. He needed to finish it quickly before his legs got completely exhausted, and that required his full attention. It was quite surprising to him that he actually managed to pull together enough of it.

'A buckshot at that range... Not incredible but still pretty damn lucky.' Tabitha replied. 'Can you run?'

'Not today.' Matthew replied.

'Shit. Don't suppose you have any food on you?'

'I do. Hate iguanas. Not much though, gave some to Harold.'

'So... we wait?'

'M-hm.'

That moment Tabitha came to fully appreciate how far Matthew has gone in the short time she knew him. She recalled his surprise that day she complimented his shooting and made a mental note to actually stop commenting negatively on his skills on habit and actually praise when praise was due.

That moment Matthew was completely into his task, but he came to admire his thoughts and demeanour later. Somewhere in the midst of his medical work his completely apathetic side kicked in and reinforced his nerves. He recalled Tabitha's compliment later and couldn't really himself fathom how he managed to stay as calm as he did while patching up his own leg.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-05 02:22 PM

'Where is she?'

Keri finished the sentence she was reading from some book about small unit tactics before looking up at the man intruding into her room at that ungodly hour and shrugged.

'I can't find her anywhere.' Ian complained and invited himself into the room, closing the door behind him. She was about to object but then she saw that worried expression on his face and instead rolled her eyes, sighed in exasperation and threw her feet from the foot of the bed to the ground so her rude and irritatingly emotional and needy friend could sit down.

Ian registered all those signs but thought nothing of them. Keri and him have been friends ever since Ian moved into town and they had a firm yet catfight-like friendship since day one.

'If you're looking for her then it means you talked with Rhonda...' Keri started with unprecedented amounts of subtlety coming from _her_.

'I have.'

'Bullshit.'

'I have!' Ian looked at her feigned irritation. 'I told her there's someone else.'

'And you broke up with her?'

'No... I said I wasn't sure.'

'Are you?'

'I am now. That's why I'm looking for her.'

Keri narrowed her eyes. Empathy was never her strong suit, hell, it wasn't even a skill she possessed an average level at, but she could still see there was more to this story than Ian was letting her in on.

'And what's the part you're leaving out?' She asked dead-pan, defiant of the standards of proper human interaction.

Ian looked at her, scrambling to come up with a lie, but upon seeing her frowning he reconsidered.

'I had sex with her.'

'Idiot.' Keri sighed.

'It was just to make sure!' Ian attempted an excuse.

'Unimaginable idiot.' Keri scolded. Ian looked down into the weathered floorboards again.

'You're right again, as usual, goddamnit.'

'So it's decided, then? Tabitha it is?'

Ian nodded slowly. 'Yeah.'

'Great. Now go to bed, get a good night's sleep, break it down to Rhonda without fucking her, and fuck Tabitha after saying you're sorry you're such an ass.'

'You make it sound so easy.' Ian smiled bitterly.

'You make it sound so hard inside your head.'

'Where's Tabitha anyway?'

Keri shrugged. 'I don't know.'

'It's not like her...' Ian looked around the room as if she was hiding somewhere there.

'She's probably held up by business.'

'In the middle of the night?'

'Happens. If you'd actually ever done something useful around town you'd know it happens.'

Ian threw her a burning glare.

'We both said our pieces.' She said evenly. 'Now get the fuck out of my room.'

'Okay.' He stood up. 'Have fun with attaining skills your overprotective dad will never let you use.'

'We'll see about that. Out you go.'

Ian smiled tiredly and left the room. Keri looked at the closed door for a couple more seconds and returned to her reading, making a mental note about pushing Ian into actually doing about this mess as she knew him well enough to know he never takes initiative.

She sighed. People in love are psychopaths.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-05 03:11 AM

Tabitha found a half-decent spot between two stalagmites to sit down and spent hours watching the Death Claw jitter around in the faint light of the lamp. Matthew looked like he could dose off any moment, his eyes narrow slits that would jerk open lazily with each louder sound the creature below them made.

She noticed, however, the way he looked at the beast when he _did_ open his eyes. It was cold, maybe even disgusted, tough, determined... kind of like when they met each other, or after his lame speech in Shady Sands. However, this time it seemed a bit... darker, more bitter. She spent almost an hour after noticing it inside her own thoughts, until she decided to speak up.

'Matt?'

He opened his eyes and looked at her lazily.

'You should get some sleep. I want you fresh and healed when we make a break for it.'

'I know.' He replied quietly, tiredly looking into the deathclaw below. 'But I'm still thinking about how we're gonna get out of here. I'm afraid I might piss my pants if I fall asleep and wake up here.'

Tabitha frowned.

'Why?'

She kind of knew the answer, it was about that strange toughness he would display from time to time, but she just wanted to hear his version of it.

'I can hold my shit together for a time but I'm too much of a fucking wuss to stay piss-free for long.' He replied evenly.

The mercenary frowned. It wasn't anything magical about people displaying uncharacteristic strength in the face of great danger, and she thought Matthew was quite awesome in that regard, but it seemed to her that he still had some self-esteem issues to deal with before he could properly admit and make use of that.

'I think you're just being modest.' Tabitha attempted, as subtly as she could, that is to say, not very subtly.

'I am being realistic.' He replied, his eyes still on the deathclaw. 'I might do something good here and there but I always screw up at the end of the day. Like with Daren.'

'You did it to save your people, didn't you?'

He nodded in response.

'You had no choice.'

He snapped his head at her. 'I could've chosen to maintain my moral integrity instead of doing whatever those pompous sheltered assholes wanted.'

That was... harsh.

'They're your family, and we're still talking about human lives.'

'Number one: they're not my family, just people I know. Number two: Daren is a human, Jain is a human as well...'

'Jain?' Tabitha interrupted.

'Another person I have to kill to get the chip. And, finally, number three: usually when we have these kind of conversations we're usually in opposite roles than now.'

'Things ain't that simple.' She replied evenly, her blood boiling somewhat upon seeing Matthew being torn. Since when is she so protective of the guy?

'You're telling me.' He diverted his gaze from her again.

'I don't think Ian will stay mad at you for long.' She attempted. 'It's just not in him to condone of what you did _or_ stay mad at people for long. He'll see reason.'

'Reason?' He laughed harshly. 'You people have an awesome sense of reason. And he probably won't. Because he shouldn't. I fucked things up; you people helped me survive, hell, you practically kept me alive, and I just went ahead and pissed on that.'

'You didn't mean to and we know it.'

'Does it matter?'

'Of course it does!' She exclaimed, irritated. He looked back at her. 'We all make mistakes and we just try to make up for them and fucking live on! In case you haven't noticed we've been travelling with you for a time now and we already know you! You are entitled to mistakes as long as you're not malicious! You don't just have to run away and hide as soon as you screw up, we're here for you!'

The deathclaw seemed invigorated by the sudden increase in volume as it approached the base of the platform again and tried scaling it. The companions tensed up until they realized it'd fail again this time.

Matthew sighed and leaned back in his narrow uncomfortable space, blinking slowly.

'I... Thanks...' The vault dweller stuttered. 'Thanks for saying that. I... I appreciate it but... I've been a load for enough time already. I think I'm just gonna go my own way when we're out of here.'

Tabitha clenched her fists but said nothing, determined to act once she's able. 'Rest up. We'll figure something out.'

Matthew nodded slowly and closed his eyes. His breath evened a couple of minutes later and Tabitha kept staring at the deathclaw below, musing in a corner of her conscious about how despite the grave physical situation they were in at that moment she could only think about solving the relationship issues among them.


	13. Crossroad, Part Four

She loathed coming into the Old Town slums, but with the mission in her head she decided to to bite it down and just come.

She noticed a lot more Crimson Caravans employees in the district and started feeling a bit of envy. Her father died and no one except money-hungry wolves ever came for her. That woman didn't come home one night and the entire caravan company was scrambling about trying to find her. Great.

He was standing by an abandoned house with that Romara woman she always disliked and that made her frown. She took a deep breath to build up her courage and approached him.

'Rhonda...' Ian was surprised to see her.

'May we speak alone?' She directed the question to him, but he said nothing. Keri rolled her eyes in irritation and walked away to see how Tycho was doing.

'I'm sorry, we've got a bit of a situation here...' Ian started nervously. 'Tabitha and Matthew are missing and we can't find the person they talked last with...'

'I know.' She said calmly. 'I came to talk about last night.'

Ian's shoulders slumped. 'I know. I wanted to come to you, but...'

'There was no need. You answered all my questions anyway.'

'So you realize...'

'I felt it too.' Rhonda said, her eyes becoming watery. 'I felt how you were trying to cling on to what we were while inside you were struggling to make yourself admit how you really felt.'

'Rhonda, I am...'

'I knew this would happen the day you left. But I still hoped it wasn't true. But when I heard you were going to stay in the north I realized it was true...'

She went into one of her cryptic sprees again and Ian, in addition to not having time for that, had still not figured out neither what they meant nor how to deal with them.

'I just want to hear you admit it. For yourself. And for me, so I wouldn't remain a fool thinking there is hope.' She finally said.

Ian looked at her. Despite being heartbroken and with watery eyes she retained her official posture. Ian looked at the ground briefly and then back into her eyes again with the most apologetic look he could manage.

'I'm sorry, Rhonda.' He said quietly. 'I love her. I love Tabitha.'

In a few seconds, sadness retreated from the woman's eyes and was replaced with stone-cold determination. Ian felt his heart jump. He just hurt her and she closed up. She was going to keep it bottled up and now he wasn't in any position to do anything about it.

'I see.' She finally said without emotion. 'I see. Good luck on your search. Goodbye, Ian.' Then she simply turned around walked back home. Ian followed her with his eyes until she was out of view.

'That's that, then.' He heard Keri say from beside him. He threw her an irritated glare and walked away to look for any clues as to the whereabouts of the person a ghoul claimed Tabitha was seen talking the last to, Slappy.

Ian winced. He knew Slappy the Madman. This wouldn't end well.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-06 09:05 AM

The rising sun hit Ian's face as it finally climbed atop one of the roofs of the Old Town. He woke up to see that he somehow fell asleep during the night, and endless scolding of himself ensued. He looked around and saw Tycho and Keri asleep by the same rock he was leaning against; the two must've fallen asleep at the same time... though he could vaguely remember them being asleep long before he was, though that was too misty: he couldn't see much through the haze of his worry, which surfaced yet again.

He remembered that night he returned from Rhonda's. He felt more than a little dirty but it was all clear to him. He couldn't find Tabitha anywhere and it seemed nothing but a hindrance, some sort of divine punishment: he couldn't end his own torment and confusion until he talked to her. Then he gradually became more and more worried. Keri and Tycho set off to look for her right away and a few other Demetre's employees followed them, but most just sat around drinking, their disapproval of Tabitha there for all to see. Only this time it didn't put him off from her. He just said fuck it and left to search on his own and these people eventually wound up in the Old Town helping anyway because there was nothing else to do and because if it involved Ian people strangely wanted to be there. He paid them no mind, only occasionally scolding himself for thinking about them before thinking about her.

The talk with Rhonda drained him of energy and he spent the rest of the day shuffling around aimlessly, painful despair setting in. And now, at the beginning of a brand new day, the time that had passed while he slept seemed to have decreased the chances of Tabitha being found alive. He shivered and stood up slowly, feeling weak and helpless. But the despair wasn't as painful as it was the day before and Ian was afraid he was close to accepting the fact that she's gone. After all, she followed a madman into a cave where a powerful mythic creature dwelled.

He shook his head to chase those thoughts away, opened up his pack and got some breakfast in the form of hastily packed dried fruit. Chewing down on it he closed his eyes and tried to calm down by trying to think of the best moments he ever had with her. That night at Irwin's farm. All the times they had sex. Even the ordeal in Junktown, Tabitha's rash behaviour and rudeness now making him smile. His thoughts drifted to Matthew as well. He always thought Matthew had a thing for her, and she had a thing for at least one side of him too. She waited for days in Shady Sands in order to see him again. Days. And she only had sex with Ian after it became apparent that she was disappointed with the real Matthew, as if he was the second prize, the best of a bad situation.

He yearned for any proof, any at all, that she truly loved him. Of course, Irwin's farm immediately came up. She dropped her tough butch mask that night for him. He wanted to believe she was sincere, but... Now he had doubts. Maybe it was the excruciating morning, but this whole mess just looked hopeless.

Keri slowly stirred in her sleep and opened her eyes lazily. She sat up, looked at Ian, then at his food, snatched a piece of dried fruit from him, bit down on it and said good morning, her voice stirring Tycho awake.

'I suppose those that still give a shit about her will be coming in shortly.' Ian said, referring to the Crimson employees. 'Let's hope that Slappy guy came home during the night.'

'I can't believe you actually made us sleep on the ground.' Keri said harshly. Both men stared daggers at her.

'That was a bit insensitive, don't you think?' The half asleep ranger said. Keri shrugged.

'We could've spared the five minutes and returned to HQ but the weeping princess had to refuse leaving here. It's just dumb.'

'Ian is worried.' Tycho's voice grew more serious as his sleeping haze withdrew.

'It's okay.' Ian said. 'She's always like that and that's why we're friends. She has a good point.'

A shadow suddenly drifted over him and he raised his head to see a ghoul approach him.

''Ello there, smoothskin.' The ghoul wheezed. It was Harold. 'I heard you were looking for Slappy?'

'Yeah?' The man jumped on his feet, his hopes alive again.

'Woke up today and saw him asleep next room. Thought you'd like to know.'

Ian suddenly grabbed the ghoul's hand and shook it firmly.

'Thank you! Thank you very much!' And with that he ran off to Harold's home. With those simple words all bad thoughts were chased away from his head. It didn't care even if she didn't really love him, it didn't matter if she fucked Matthew in front of his eyes for the rest of their lives. At that moment the only thought he had in his head was of finally finding her, and giving her the fiercest hug in the history of mankind.

* * *

><p>Outside the Hub<p>

2161-01-06 10:04 AM

Matthew's hopes appeared to have not been foolish when the two companions saw the Death Claw finally settle in one place right at the edge of the light's dying ray and lie down. Matthew smiled rather menacingly.

'You sure you'll be able to walk?' Tabitha whispered.

'Not run, but it's now or a day later. Sorry for not coming up with something better.'

'Nah, it's good.'

Tabitha nodded and smiled upon seeing her companion strong and determined after waking up. While the vault dweller slowly took aim, Tabitha kept the Pip-Boy light on the knee of the beast's kneecap, Matthew's pack on her shoulders as his was heavier and he needed every advantage he could get.

The vault dweller's world shrank down to the knee of the monster, his brain working full-speed to ensure no hitch would appear in the rhythm of his breathing. He inhaled and exhaled slowly a couple of times with his eye looking down the rifle's aim. When he was satisfied he would be able to at least hit his target, he exhaled slowly the last time and fired.

The sound of the shot was a strong punch to his collectedness as he knew it meant the start of their dash. They lingered only a moment to make sure the bullet hit the slender leg, and started half climbing half sliding down from their safe spot.

The beast was up on its feet in a second and started towards the two. Even with an injured knee the beast could move as quickly as an average man running, which practically meant that Tabitha was safe and Matthew was, for the lack of a better word, fucked.

She ran towards the surface first, her .44 Magnum in hand, and once she knew there would be some distance between the monster and them, stopped, turned around, aimed quickly, and fired, aiming for the beast's shin. She missed. Another shot, the beast almost on top of her, a hit in the mid upper leg. The beast barely slowed down.

'Shit!' She cursed and started running again, Matthew already ahead of her. She caught up with him almost immediately, ran past him, stopped, turned around, and shot again. She got the monster in its right chest, the large calibre bullet digging a large but shallow hole. The beast's speed dropped drastically as it twitched in pain, and once it was running again it seemed to be on par with Matthew's speed. She turned around and ran, this time making sure she was next to the vault dweller, pointing his flashlight to the treacherous footing of the cave. In her head, she determined whatever stamina the vaultie possessed was no match for the beast's and started praying for a miracle.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-06 09:33 AM

Ian had bolted so fast that Tycho and Keri only caught up with him when he'd already found Slappy and was shaking the man violently to lead them to their missing friends. The sickly man was forced into running by the very excited and impatient Ian while his two companions were bracing themselves for whatever they were going to find.

They were already outside of town when they noticed two human-shaped silhouettes running at their direction, a massive silhouette of some sort of a monster running behind them. Or rather limping, as the beast was staggering left and right and one of the people trying was to sprint with an awful limp and seemingly at the verge of exhaustion. before they knew it, Ian had dashed forward with ungodly speed and the fit merc and the ranger had to struggle to catch up.

The moment Ian was sure it was Matthew and Tabitha, chased by some sort of a nightmarish creature, his blood boiled and he drew his SMG faster than he ever had.

'Ian!' Tabitha exclaimed. 'Go for the eyes, the skin is too thick!'

He ran past the two unloaded his clip in the monster's face, Keri and Tycho catching up with him half a clip later and firing their SMG and a sort-of sawed-off respectively. They were all dry and the monster was down on the sand, writhing and convulsing in pain. They struggled to reload and Ian was once again the fastest one. He took three steps closer to the beast, who was now trying to crawl up to them, and unloaded and entire clip in its face. The monster stopped moving, its body only twitching ever so slightly as it died.

'Ian!' Tabitha exclaimed as he turned around and rammed his lips into hers for the most passionate kiss they'd ever had.

'Matt!' Keri voice barely registered in Ian's head, but at the sound of the woman's voice his love broke the kiss and turned around towards the merc, the ranger, and the vaultie, lying face-first in the sand.

'God, Matthew!' Tabitha screamed as she fell on her knees in front of the physician.

Everything seemed slow and hazy to Ian at that moment, though one thing he could recall of it was the strange thought in his head that if the young vault dweller was dead he wouldn't exactly care much about it.

'It's okay, he's just passed out.' Tycho calmed the woman and rolled up the leg of Matt's jeans to look at the wound that soaked the cloth in red. He was surprised to find it neatly sewn.

'It's okay, he took care of that leg.' Tabitha said hastily. 'We should take him back to a doctor.'

Tycho nodded, picked the man up, turned around, and started for the Hub.

Tabitha sighed heavily and turned around to Ian, still dumbfounded.

'I knew you'd find us.' She said as she approached him and kissed him tenderly. 'God, I thought we were done for.'

She was the open-hearted bitch-mask-less Tabitha again, and at the realisation of that his lips slowly flourished into a smile and he hugged her warmly. They stayed there among the ruins of a Pre-War town in each other's embrace and slowly rocking for a few minutes, until Tabitha finally said. 'Dropped my gun at the cave. Better go find it now.'

Ian smiled. An opportunity for them to be alone again. He pulled away slowly and took her hands in his, just looking at her face with a smile.

'I love you.' He said quietly. 'You're the only one I'll ever need. I'm yours.'

She smiled back kissed him on the lips. It was the happiest moment of them he had from that point forward.

* * *

><p>Outside the Hub<p>

2161-01-06 11:23 AM

'This is where we ran away to' Tabitha motioned her head towards the stalagmites, still somewhat illuminating by the dying light on the floor. She'd told the whole story to Ian en route and the man flinched seeing first hand just what sort of a situation they were in. Tabitha picked up her shotgun while he stood gawking.

'Bet you were scared...' Ian said silently, turning to her with a gentle and caring look on her face.

'I ain't made of glass!' She laughed as she closed in to him and stroke his cheek with her palm. 'Though I _did_ suspect I might end up dead.' She added in the same careless voice.

'Matt did good.' Ian said, his voice now somewhat sombre.

'He did.' Tabitha nodded her head, then frowned. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.' He shook his head dismissively. 'It's just... You know, the whole Hightower mess...'

Tabitha sighed, remembering Matthew's words regarding this while they were stuck.

'You know, we actually talked about it while we were up there...' She said.

'Up there?' Ian asked incredulously.

'Yeah, we did need to pass the time. Anyway, we talked about it and I believe he's really sorry for what he did. He said he did it because he was forced to and... Trust me, he regrets it. He'd already said some horrible things about himself _and_his people. He's just... scared, I think.'

Ian sighed. 'I know. It's just that... Yeah, you're probably right. It's just that things like that don't just fix themselves instantly, you know?'

Tabitha nodded and looked back into the place Matthew and her were holed up.

'When you said I'm the only one you'll ever need,' she started evenly, still looking at the stalagmites, 'you meant that you closed the deal with the Hightower woman, right?'

Ian looked at her with his eyes wide. 'Who told you...'

'People.' She looked at him without any expression. 'But I caught wind of it when she came over to the office.'

Ian cast his eyes down. 'I'm sorry. Yes, there's nothing between me and her anymore and she knows it.'

'Do you regret that, giving something up for me?'

He looked up at her. 'No! I was honest in my decision.'

'Okay.' She smiled, walked up to him, and kissed him on the cheek. 'I'm not going to ask any further. But you _do_ realize I'll cut off your balls if you leave me hanging, right?'

Ian just laughed in response.

'Great then.' She smiled. 'And as for Matt, he respects you, and is probably pretty scared of you. I think you should talk with him.'

'You've got nothing to be jealous of!' Tabitha said, mildly irritated. Ian picked up the light.

'I suppose.'

'Come on!' She was now even more irritated. 'Do you think I can ever see the two of us as anything more than friends?'

Ian shrugged and turned his gaze away, absent-mindedly inspecting the hall.

'It's just...' He tried to express what he was feeling without sounding possessive and paranoid. 'I don't know, I suppose I just envy him some things...'

'Like what? What is there to envy? We have -nothing- between us, God, I've never even touched you while I gave you all of me...' She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed Ian's gaze was fixed on something at the far end of the hall, as was the dim light. She pointed the Pip-Boy flashlight that way as well.

On the floor in the corner lied a body of another monster, different from the Death Claw. It looked like a huge and incredibly muscular humanoid with a green tint to its skin, with warts and other malformations on its face. It wore nothing but tattered trousers and had giant claw marks on its torso, with dry blood caking the whole body. A seemingly broken hunting rifle lay next to it.

'What. The fuck. Is that?' Tabitha asked, obviously shaken.

Ian slowly approached the creature and felt for a pulse in several areas, not sure if the beast worked the same way humans did. When he finally stood up and whispered 'Dead' he saw Tabitha unclench its dead fingers to find a dirty misshapen holo-tape.

'I think this could be read with Matt's computer thing somehow.' Tabitha offered. Ian nodded slowly.

'Damn.' She continued. 'This thing's getting more and more complicated...'

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-06 06:43 PM

'Base, this is Scavenger Team two come in. Over.' A beefy, distorted voice could be heard amongst the static.

'We're reading you loud an clear, go ahead. Over.' A similar but somehow more intelligent-sounding voice came from the Pip-Boy.

'We've collected four males, two females, and their supplies from the caravan. They're not too badly contaminated. Tell the Lieutenant that we're sending them ahead, they might be able to survive the process. We're going to wait here for a few more days to try and intercept another caravan. Over.'

'Roger that. Were any casualties accrued during the acquisition? Over.'

'Negative. Another clean sweep. Base, also tell Scavenger Team one that we've run across the same problem they had. One of our scouts did not return from his perimeter patrol. A few of our other scouts reported that there was something big and fast seen near our camp last night. I'll be checking it out personally at 0600 hours tomorrow morning. Over.'

'Copy. We'll be awaiting your report. If possible, try to capture it. The Master would be very pleased. Over.'

A silent click announced the end of the recording. Demetre's office was dead silent. Keri stared into Matthew's Pip-boy she borrowed without a word, deep in thought. Tycho was frowning, strugging to catch up with the gibberish. Tabitha was frowning with irritation and disbelief. Ian was staring at the wall expressionless. Demetre was scowling, deep in thought.

'So...' Keri started. 'It wasn't the Death Claw. I did not see that one coming.'

Ian slowly shook his head. 'Neither did I.'

'There is an organized movement of mutants,' Tabitha said incredulously, squeezing out every word, 'which are abducting people from the caravans.'

'At least knowing it puts us in a bit of an... advantage.' Demetre said. 'But to abduct our caravans without losses... We'll have to arm them up to the teeth if we hope to see them get to their destination.'

'At least we'll get the Far Go money for telling them what it was.' Tabitha tried to smooth the situation. 'Damn. This calls for an all-out mutant hunt, right?'

Demetre nodded slowly. 'That mutant was so close to the city... Incredible.'

'The Death Claw sort of saved us from that one.' Tabitha said.

'That one was armed with a hunting rifle.' Ian stated slowly. 'Imagine what them carrying larger weapons, which they could. Flinging flamers with ease or running up to us with a weapon one would mount to a vehicle, or a wall.'

Everyone's faces betrayed they didn't really want to.

'I'll go collect.' Tabitha said. 'Then we should think this one through. Maybe a meeting of the caravan companies?'

'It's called the City Council.' Demetre replied. 'And we're definitely going to talk about this. You inform Butch, I'll send someone over to the Water Merchants so they can think this through... Shit. What a mess.'

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-06 01:49 PM

Matthew's eyes opened slowly and upon waking up the young man was disoriented for a bit, not recognizing the room he was in. He was about to shout out for someone but commanded himself to calm down. He looked around: the room looked like one of the houses built within Pre-War buildings of the Hub, it was spacious, smelled of medicine, and had eight beds placed in two rows, all with clean white sheets, or as clean as clean goes these days.

Matthew sighed and calmed down: he must be in the infirmary.

His suspicions were proven true when a couple of minutes later an elderly doctor came in, with Ian and Tycho in tow. Seeing the two men made the vault dweller nervous. He was hoping he could bolt before he ran into them again, unwilling to face the shame of betraying their trust.

'Yup, he's awake,' the old man said, 'as I said, nothing major, just some blood loss and fatigue.'

Matthew couldn't resist rolling his eyes to that.

'Well, I'll leave you to it, then.' The doctor said and left the room. The two visitors sat down on the bed next to Matthew's.

'So... The deathclaw is dead, right?' Matthew asked awkwardly, not knowing how to start this.

Ian nodded. 'We killed it somehow.'

'Cool.' Matt said quietly and fixed his stare into the ceiling.

'Tabitha said you saved her ass down there.' Ian attempted. Matthew shrugged.

'We saved each other, I guess.'

'Teamwork.' Tycho nodded. 'We're stronger in a group. I thought you knew that, but then again, you didn't come to us when Decker told you to kill Daren...'

'Yes.' Matthew said evenly. 'I'm sorry. It was... I just owe you all a lot and running back to you asking for help _again_ seemed just... like extortion.'

'We wouldn't have minded.' Ian interrupted calmly.

'I thought you would've, seeing as how you were in the middle of that Tabitha-Rhonda thing.'

Ian rolled his eyes irritated. 'Is there someone in the city who _doesn't _know about this?'

'Anyway,' Matthew continued, 'I just did what seemed to be the best I could do there and then and... And I came to regret it the very next morning. I mean I had my reasons, maybe even valid reasons, but... Shit, I fucked up.'

The ranger was nodding slowly, only his face seemed somewhat brighter now. Ian was frowning, deep in thought.

'So did you get the chip?' Ian asked.

'No.' Matthew replied bitterly and sighed. 'Decker contacted me again, said Daren was a test and now I have to kill Jain.'

'Will you?' Tycho asked evenly.

Matthew seemed to be deep in thought, staring through the window into the town under the harsh afternoon sun.

'I only have a rough idea of where the chip could _possibly _be,' the vault dweller started slowly, 'and that's still far away in a hidden place, and only _probably_ there. And I figure killing Jain would be the easier solution but...' He paused for a couple of long seconds, 'but I'd rather take the off chance I can find it on my own than do something like that again. It's selfish, but... I want to do it my way.'

'How is that selfish?' Ian asked, confused. Matthew slowly turned his head and looked at the merc.

'The lives of the people in my vault depend on me and I must deliver their salvation no matter what. They sent me out to get that chip and whether I succeed or not determines whether they live or not. With such a mission on my hands I shouldn't have a problem killing a person to save a thousand, and I honestly tried to convince myself of this that night, but in the end, I cannot give myself up for my people, I cannot just stop feeling things and be a tool to deliver their needs, no matter how crucial they might be...' He looked away again. 'And if I don't kill Jain I might be selfishly putting my own values and feeling before the lives of a thousand people but...' he closed his eyes, 'I can't do it any other way.'

Both visitors were staring at the young man intently, both trying to process that information for neither really looked at it this way, neither have tried to sympathize with the man taking what he just said into account. Suddenly, Ian realized that the disappointment and grief he felt towards the man suddenly disappeared, replaced by a ting of guilt for not understanding the situation sooner. Tycho, on the other hand, almost felt like smiling. He was afraid the Wasteland has claimed another good soul and turned it into a selfish wastelander, right under his nose never the less, but it turned out Matthew was still holding strong. Say what you want about killing raiders, but the man, deep in his core, turned out to still be a decent person.

There was also a small nagging inside the ranger's head that he subconsciously tried to ignore, something about not wanting to even think about being forced into a decision like the one Matthew had to make.

Ian slowly stood up, approached the vault dweller, and put his hand on his shoulder.

'I'm sorry I couldn't help you. And I'm sorry I shouted at you...'

Matthew opened his eyes. 'No.' He shook his head. 'It's me who should be sorry. I'm sorry I killed Rhonda's dad. And I'm sorry I disregarded what you had to say in this matter.'

Ian cracked a sad smile. 'Okay, let's just admit we both screwed up.'

Matthew smiled back. 'Yeah. Screwed up big time.'

Tycho stood up and approached the bed too. 'So... What are you going to do about Decker?'

Matthew sighed, suddenly worried. 'I guess I'll just have to leave town before he realizes I'm not going to deliver.' He laughed. 'That's justice for you, I killed Daren and now I can't come back here.'

Ian swallowed as he remembered saying that would be the best option. 'We'll see what we can do about it.' He said. 'I guess... We'll see you later.'

Matthew nodded. 'Okay. Thanks.'

Leaving the building Ian felt conflicted inside. There was no longer that anger directed at Matthew, but there was something else, something he didn't want to admit but Tabitha had already caught upon. Envy.

He knew how this situation would end: Matthew will return to their crew, Tabitha will welcome him with open arms, and they'll once again fall into he same routine: Tabitha would fuck Ian but direct most of her attention to the vault dweller. And this time she would be right to do so: Ian jeopardized their relationship for nothing but selfish reasons, and Matthew... She couldn't hate Matthew, she never really did, even without fully hearing his side of the story. To her he is a lost man she needs to guide, and for some reason when she did it she made it feel a lot more special than what he and her had. And even Ian couldn't really be angry at the young man after realizing he wouldn't have done it any other way if their places were reversed.

Ian kicked a pebble that happened to be on the side of the street angrily. It was nice they all reconciled, but now things were more confusing than ever.

Back in the Hub's 'hospital', Matthew replayed the conversation in his head and couldn't help but smile, though with a ton of sadness behind it. He still felt like bolting and he still felt unworthy of the help of his three companions. He considered running away but had to admit to himself he couldn't go far alone, not without their knowledge and skills. In the end, he wasn't cut out to be a wastelander after all, at least not a self-sufficient one. He drifted into sleep uneasily, still torn about his decision.

His waking up later that night was abrupt and violent.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-06 10:23 PM

Idle drinking that night at the Crimson Caravans was both a bit more lively and a bit more tense. The missing caravans mystery was solved, but giving the mystery the terrifying face of a Super Mutant didn't help anyone. Then again, Ian was glad the little love triangle situation was done with. He already noticed people disapproving of Tabitha and his decision, and people thinking badly of him was a new sensation, one he found difficult to cope with despite being determined to weather this until he gets used to it. And then there was Matthew, another situation solved but still bearing a foul after-taste, at least to Ian, who was quite sulky that evening, writing it off to his curious friends as being tired. Tycho was sombre as well, deep in thought about Matthew's situation, but the ranger being this way was nothing new so nobody minded. Tabitha, on the other hand, seemed to be quite lively that evening. So lively in fact that she managed to drag the usually stoic Keri into a lively conversation. That made Ian smile a bit. He was quite sure he was the only friend Keri had in the world and it was good for her to find some more, and it was also nice to see someone whose opinion Ian held in high regard approve of his loved one. Keri's small room seemed cramped with four people and a dog in it but no one seemed to care.

'Think someone should walk Dogmeat.' Tabitha laughed. 'He might take a dump somewhere around here.'

Keri laughed, 'Yeah, I want to see it try, it's gonna regret it this soon.' She snapped her fingers. 'I take it from Matthew's dog moving in that Matthew himself is soon to follow?'

Tabitha looked at Ian who gave her the faintest of smiles. 'I think so.' She said and looked back at the woman. 'Why? You interested in something?'

Keri raised an eyebrow. 'How in the world did you come up with that?'

Tabitha rolled her eyes, took a swig of whiskey and replied, 'I'm under the impression that you're not one for romance, and as a side note, my impressions are actually quite accurate, so you asking a question like that kinda suggests you'd like to see him.'

Keri shrugged. 'Maybe. He fascinates me.'

Tabitha burst into laughter and even Ian smiled a bit. 'Fascinates? You talking about sex or... vivisection?'

Keri smiled a bit, that was unexpected. 'I meant vivisection.' Tabitha laughed out louder. 'Of the verbal kind, of course.' Tabitha was choking on her own laughter by that point. Something about it filled the room with a more manageable mood. Dogmeat perked its head up at the noise and Keri tapped the bed beside her. The mutt jumped on the bed and lied down with Keri scratching behind its ear with a dumb satisfied grin. 'You and Ian okay, though?' She asked suddenly. Tabitha's laugh died down a little. She looked at her boyfriend questioningly and he grinned at her teasingly before leaning in and kissing her passionately.

'Somebody open a window.' Keri rolled her eyes.

The door to the room was suddenly opened by the worried-looking town's doctor. The two mercs' kiss was over in a second.

'What's wrong?' Tabitha's voice was immediately tense.

'I just came in to check on your friend...' the doctor said, panting heavily, 'and I saw your friend getting carried away by some men... Looked like abduction to me.'

'Decker.' Tabitha spat out as she stood up. The doctor nodded.

'Yeah, looks like it.'

'Thanks, doc, we'll take care of this.' Keri said standing up. 'Could you please go fetch the sheriff and tell him to meet us at the clinic?'

The doctor nodded and ran out of the building.

'Exactly what are you going to do to Decker?' Ian stood up, objecting. 'He's the mastermind of the Hub's Underground, if he's got Matt then that's beyond our reach!'

Tabitha threw him a shocked look that made his blood boil. His woman was clinging on to that vaultie as tight as ever.

'Simple.' Keri said calmly. 'We tell the police most of the truth. If Decker ever had enemies he would send his goons to kill them without compromising himself, but this time he dragged Matthew to his own HQ instead, probably because torturing him into telling them where his vault is is more beneficial than just killing him so if we go into the Falcon with the police in tow we should get Decker for abduction _at least_.'

Tabitha shook her head, confused, 'wait, how do you know Matt's...'

'I read stuff so I know what a Pip-Boy is. Anyway, we tell the police Decker blackmailed Matt into killing Jain for him and he didn't deliver.'

'And that's going to enough for a trial?' Tycho asked.

'Trial around here is sheriff listening to the story told by several people and then deciding, usually for the benefit of the caravan companies who have the cash. And let me tell you, the caravan companies are uneasy: there's the super Mutant case and the case of the Underground having just killed a prominent trader. They are all on their toes and if they gather even the slightest hints about who to blame they'll do everything to get rid of these people.'

Tycho thought a bit about it. 'Okay. But let me tell you, I've seen a lot of people like Decker and if he's smart then he'll understand how easily we can book him. We shouldn't expect to find Matthew easily.'

Ian could almost see Tabitha's heart drop.

'We can't just do nothing!' She exclaimed. Come on, let's get to the clinic first of all.'

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-06 10:49 PM

Tycho had been on a lot of criminal mastermind shake-downs in his life and had almost grown accustomed to them. This time, however, it felt different. Despite all the problems they had the ranger had to admit he cared about Matthew a whole lot and knowing the young man was in Decker's hands made him uneasy. He kept looking around the patch of the Hub that was visible, ignoring the near-deafening sound of Tabitha yelling at the town's sheriff, a man with a big and pointy waxed moustache, who'd shown reluctance when debriefed on the situation. Ian was uneasy too, but for some reason the ranger felt it was more than just worry about the vault dweller.

Tycho sighed. The conversation with the young man earlier that day replaced the older man's disappointment with pity, and this new development took it even further that way. Tycho admitted what Matt did was wrong and he would have to make amends for it, but he just felt that being pout into this sort of a position so soon after the whole Deathclaw ordeal was a bit too much. He took a look at Ian and found him looking similarly uneasy, but he couldn't help thinking there was more to it.

''Scuse me...' He heard someone say in a raspy voice and looked to his right to find a ghoul standing beside him.

'Harold!' Tabitha suddenly exclaimed and practically jumped in front of the ghoul. 'Have you seen Matt?'

'As the matter in fact I have.' The ghoul wheezed. 'Came here to visit him and saw him being dragged out. So while the doctor followed soon after and ran off somewheres I followed them to the Old Town.'

'Where? Can you take us there?'

'Sure, but you gotta be quiet... And 'scuse me for not having young enough joints to hurry up as much as you'd like.'

Tabitha nodded and the old merchant started towards the western slums, followed by impatient Ian, Tabitha, Tycho, Keri, Doctor Kyle, the Sheriff and four of the Hub's policemen.

'Say,' Tycho started as he caught up to the ghoul, 'why exactly have you come here to visit Matthew so late?'

The ghoul chuckled, or rather made a noise that stood for chuckling if you were a ghoul, and replied, 'when you have a face like mine people much prefer that you don't go places in broad daylight.'

The ranger winced. 'I'm sorry.' It always bordered him how much despite the need for cooperation and the knowledge the ghouls possessed the people of the wasteland kept pushing away and discriminating anyone that had even the slightest visible mutation.

'It's okay.' The ghoul rasped between laboured breaths, hurrying, 'I got used to it in the decades.'

The ghoul stopped between two buildings in the old town, one of the being Thieves Guild HQ, and pointed at an old garage down the road. A man sat on a dilapidated bench by the entry, seemingly idle, smoking a cigarette and drinking a bottle of booze, but the companions knew better than to fall for it. Once everyone had taken a look they they went deeper into the gap to plan this out.

'No windows.' Tabitha observed immediately. 'Only one way to go and if we try an assault like that Matthew will be dead within seconds.'

'I don't know if it's wise to just go in guns blazing.' The sheriff suggested, stroking his moustache.

'I'd suggest you just go over and ask nicely,' Keri said, 'but I kinda like you alive.'

'We need to at least know how many of them there are down there, and whether or not Decker is with them.'

'I've been in there.' Harold chipped in. 'There's a hole in the roof in the back. Someone could take a peek...'

'I'll do it.' Tabitha stated immediately.

'No!' Ian objected suddenly, much to everyone's surprise. 'You're tired... From that other ordeal...' he stammered, 'I'll go.'

She looked like she was going to object for a moment, but finally just nodded.

Five minutes later they had some sort of a plan worked out and Ian slowly sneaked to the back of the building and climbed carefully on the old garbage bin, then on a stack of crates, and, finally, on the roof of the garage. He had to admit he felt like a good person doing this to help Matthew but he just couldn't help but scold himself upon realizing he only did it to put Tabitha out of harm's way. Furthermore, as much as he hated to admit it, he believed Tabitha could go ahead and do something stupid if Matthew was faced with any serious danger.

Lying on his stomach the merc slowly made his way to the hole in the ceiling. Peeking in, he saw Matthew tied to a chair in the dim light of a car battery in the middle of the completely empty garage, a rather bulky man standing before him.

'We can just kill you and kidnap a computer tech, you know.' Came a voice from the edge of the room. Ian turned his head and saw Decker sitting on another chair, observing. 'Then his blood would be on your hands too.'

Matthew slumped his head and said nothing. Decker waited a few more seconds, then sighed, shifted in the chair, and waved his hand to the bulky man who then picked Matthew's head up by the hair, leaned back, and right-hooked him in the cheek. Immediately after that the man's foot rammed into the vault dweller's stomach and he fell on his back with the chair.

Ian winced, realizing he needed to get on with his task. A minute later he gave a nod to the ghoul waiting behind the garage and pointed five fingers up. The ghoul shuffled back to the rest of the company.

Ian returned to the hole and started waiting impatiently for the attack to start as the bulky man brought Matthew back up and Decker continued his devilish threats, pretending that it was Matt who was forcing his hand.

The sheriff and two of his men slowly approached the front door of the garage, nervous. The man idling by the door tensed up.

'Evening.' He said.

'Evening.' The sheriff replied. 'I heard some people saying someone was up to no good around here...'

The man stood up. 'No one's up to no good, sheriff.' The man replied, louder than he needed to. Ian noticed the men inside heard that and all five of them were slowly approaching the door, Decker slowly standing up and drawing his pistol. 'You can go inside and check if you want.'

'I think I will.' The sheriff nodded and went past the man to the handle of the door of the garage.

Suddenly, two more policemen, Tycho and Tabitha came from around the corner, Tabitha pointing her shotgun at the man point-blank, her eyes daring him to make a noise. Tycho approached the man from behind and hit him in the head, knocking him out. Tabitha dragged him off behind the corner while everyone else but the sheriff retreated to the cover as well.

The sheriff sighed, slightly nervous, took hold of the handle, yanked it up and strong as he could, and immediately dove to the left towards the safety of the building's corner. The men inside started shooting and it was only by stroke of luck that he managed to roll to safety without getting shot. The three policemen there readied there weapons while the fourth, who was hiding around the corner on the other side of the door jumped out of his cover and opened fire, with Tabitha and Tycho a millisecond later. Three of the men went down immediately while the rest retreated into the garage. While the three assailants fell back to reload and the other four were about to emerge and take over the initiative Ian noticed Decker approach Matthew, his weapon drawn.

'Shit.' He cursed. They won't be able to make it in time.

Without much thought he suddenly jumped up on his feet and down the hole, crashing into Decker on his way down. The impact made him see stars and roll away a bit. Decker fell on the ground without any signs of movement and his gun slid through the dusty ground further to the back of the garage. Ian heard the guns of the Hub's lawmen blazing up at the entry and, still prone, grabbed the chair Matthew was tied to and pulled it so the young man would fall on his back again and hopefully avoid any stray bullets as Decker's men were the only thing standing between them and guns going off.

Ian scrambled to untie Matthew and the man got on his fours with surprising speed.

'Watch out!' Matthew rasped, but Ian wasn't quick enough to react before Decker appeared out of nowhere, grabbed the merc by the neck, put his gun to his head, and turned around to face the assailants turning his back to Matthew in the process.

'Don't you fucking move!' The man exclaimed to the seven assailants who were now standing on the doorway, their fingers frozen on the trigger buttons. 'You listen to me and this fucker gets out alive!'

The silence in the old building was torturous while the foes were in a deadlock. Matthew slowly shook his head to stop spinning.

He looked at Ian, with a gun held to his forehead, and the people who came for him standing in the doorway to the garage. It probably wasn't the time or place for such thoughts, but Matthew couldn't help but feel good about so many people having come for him. He was so scared this whole time, the feeling of solitude and abandonment, that thing he wanted to force upon himself, tearing him apart in places Decker's goon couldn't.

He realized Tabitha had been throwing looks at him. He concentrated on her and noticed she was actually throwing looks at something right next to him. He looked to it slowly. It was a gun, a 10mm pistol that dropped out of the hands of one of Decker's men when he died.

'Now you all slowly back off!' Decker exclaimed. The attackers slowly lowered their weapons and backed off, putting enough distance between themselves and the door. Matthew in the meantime slowly crawled up to the the gun, picked it up, and, feeling his muscles burn from the beating, dropped down to the floor and rolled on his back.

'Now I'm gonna leave and this friend of yours is gonna live.' Decker stated. 'The other one on the other hand...'

The gun was suddenly pointed away from Ian's head and right at Matthew. He didn't even get the chance to react before Decker's gun fired, followed by Matthew's gun firing barely a millisecond later.

He closed his eyes shut. He thought he felt the impact of the bullet on his torso. He was too scared to look and too scared to actually feel if he was shot. He remained lying there on the floor until he felt a pair of hands on him.

'Oh my god, were you shot?' He heard Tabitha's voice. He slowly opened his eyes and looked down to his torso. It wasn't more bloodied than it was before. 'Oh my god!' Tabitha laughed as she pointed at a small hole in the ground, right between matthew's left side and left arm. 'You're a lucky sonuvabitch!'

Matthew laughed coarsely, closed his eyes, and let his head fall down. He was unconscious within a second.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-08 10:11 AM

It wasn't long before Matthew's companions, or dare he say, friends, decided lying in bed all day wasn't a proper treatment for him and dragged him out into the Old Woman's Garden for a bottle of whiskey or two... or five.

Despite him feeling extremely uncomfortable in the company right now after what he'd done he had to admit the overall atmosphere was pretty good that morning. Tabitha seemed to be extremely happy for some reason, Ian looked tired but also not so terrible, sometimes even smiling faintly, and Keri... Well, it was a surprise to the vault dweller to see her actually smile and laugh at several of Tabitha's comments. Tycho remained the same old stoic Tycho and Dogmeat remained the same old sleepy Dogmeat.

'Here's to Decker's ghost.' Keri toasted. 'And to Matthew for making things right again.'

They cheered and drank, Matthew feeling one little step further away from benig the utter failure of a wastelander: even though he eventually took care of Decker, by luckily shooting him in the lung that night, he still felt rotten about Daren and about abandoning his friends so lightly.

'So...' Tabitha sighed contended and wrapper her hand around Ian's shoulders. 'What's next in store for us?' She looked at Matthew.

'Well... I think I'll head on over to Necropolis.' He said shyly, expecting nothing, or rather expecting his companions would let him go alone and he wouldn't at least have to feel bad about himself all the time. Admittedly, it was in his quest's best interest to have some company, but since after killing Daren the vault dweller made a decision to not be just a tool of the vault, but rather a person trying to achieve his goals and still be able to live with himself. 'There should be... What I'm looking for there.'

'No need to hide it, Keri already knows it.' Tabitha laughed. 'But anyway, there won't be any caravans heading out until this Super Mutant mess is taken care of and we won't be able to come with you as well for the same reason.'

'You... intend to come with me?' Matthew asked, averting everyone's gazes.

'Hell yeah!' Tabitha reassured. 'What, don't you love our company any more?'

'I do, but... I've already troubled you guys enough...'

'Nonsense,' Tabitha waved her hand dismissively, 'I ain't gonna leave a job half-finished.'

'Besides,' Tycho added, 'I for one am not going to turn away the opportunity to help a thousand people avoid death if I can help it. It's just in my blood.'

'So,' Ian concluded, faking a smile despite his worries, 'you're stuck with us, kid.' he laughed. 'Look at it this way, whatever the City Council decides top to about the mutants we're gonna carry out. You're gonna help us do that and we're gonna help you with the chip.'

Mathew smiled shyly. 'Thanks... I just, thanks...'

Tabitha laughed and hugged Matthew playfully, 'ain't he cute when he's flustered like that?'

* * *

><p>She undid the string that held her thick black hair in a bun and let it fall lose over her shoulder and back. She looked at herself in the mirror she was sitting in front of. The image wasn't clear enough to inform her about the minute details of her appearance. All she ever saw in it was only her own silhouette.<p>

Picking up a comb and running it through her hair Rhonda started thinking about simple everyday things. The workers were crying for stability in the face of her father's passing, and her brother, the rightful inheritor of the Hightower fortune was away adventuring, of all things. Need to take care of that. Then there were two more people from satellite farms whose homes were taken over by raiders. Maybe she could ask the desert ranger...

'Decker is dead.' She remembered in smiled, but it soon turned into a frown as she started scolding herself for being happy for someone's death. And Ian's girlfriend was safe...

Her hand suddenly shook and the comb slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. She felt tears rising up so she cupped her forehead and concentrated upon willing them away, a dynamic battle thanks to new thoughts coming into her head on their own, uninvited and unwanted. She was alone here and she was with Ian. She was the one left behind. She was suffering alone for days and he needed her to come save her, but all he did, was come over, give her hope, than just fuck her, spit her in the face, and left to save Tabitha instead.

He had a choice: he could've saved either one of them. And he chose that rude merc.

A more rational side of her tried to argue that people's affections were a constantly changing thing, that it's not the end of the world and that in the end Tabitha was in a physical danger while she was simply grieving. But another, more passionate and powerful side of her refused to admit that someone abandoning her was okay.

She started counting, from a hundred backwards, and when she reached one she removed her hands from her forehead and picked up the comb, slightly shivering but determined to weather this storm.

She was all alone, after all, abandoned, and pretty much had no choice.

She looked at her silhouette in the mirror again. Some days she was glad she couldn't see herself in it clearly.


	14. Mercenary

A/N: I do not own Fallout.

* * *

><p>Matthew stepped out of the Hub's Police Office and sighed heavily. He has just been interrogated under suspicion of having been an employee of the late Decker over whose property the wealthier and more influential people of the settlement were fighting. He thought back to the interrogation and judged he did well. The hardest part was feigning a proper reaction to accusations of killing Daren Hightower, but he believed he'd managed. After all it was a half-assed effort on the law's part as they were processing a long line of people suspected of working for the late underground mastermind and the conveyor-like work was a tiring one.<p>

Matthew sighed again and started heading back to Crimson. He screwed up, he screwed up big time, and now he got a 'get out of jail free' card for nothing. All of his mistakes have been washed away, except for the sick feeling in his stomach. He was given another chance and was determined to accomplish something with it and not let it go to waste. Most of all, he felt indebted to Crimson Caravans and their people, and of course his companions.

He smiled. Despite like feeling worthless with them he was still happy to have returned. Of course, some scars would never heal, but on the upside, if it took too long or was painful enough he could just leave. The clock was ticking and even in the worst case scenario he wouldn't stick around for longer than until the initial hundred-fifty days ran out.

He didn't know how he felt about it, though. He'd come full-circle now: from hating the new world through loving it and back to hating it again, but he had to admit it still had its charm, most of all by the number of opportunities it presented. Then again, he just felt under-qualified for it.

He sighed. Things were still so confusing...

The Hub

2161-01-12 02:11 PM

Demetre's office was quite small and housed only an old desk with a chair and some old file drawers by the wall. But it was clean and business-like, and with additional chairs dragged in it was just roomy enough to house the eight people that had arrived today. Aside from Matthew, it was Ian, Tabitha, Tycho, Keri, a tall and muscular rowdy merc by the name of Hailey, and three more men of the Crimson Caravans, one of them standing out amongst others. Curtis was a short blond man with large shades and a mean-looking scoped hunting rifle on his back. He was wearing sand-coloured leather armour which Matthew guessed was used for camouflage. Matthew also guessed the man was a sniper. Demetre had called the eight people here right after returning from the City Council meeting.

'It has been decided that action against these mutants abducting people must be taken swiftly.' Demetre began unceremoniously. 'To this end, the caravans and some of the traders have agreed to equip teams of warriors to scout the area surrounding the Hub and look for and eliminate any trace of these mutants. I have gathered you here as the first team coming from Crimson Caravans, that is, if you agree with my terms, which are: you help us search a certain area around the Hub and return whatever the results, and aid other teams if need be. You will be paid four hundred bottle caps, the price of average trip, and any ammo and items used to accomplish the task will be paid for. I understand it seems like a low price for risking your heads like that, but we cannot do any better if we are to defeat this crisis without ruining ourselves.'

The room fell silent.

'If you have any questions, speak up. If you would rather not join us on this, feel free to leave the room. Let me assure you participation isn't mandatory and I won't hold it against you if you refuse. I understand I'm asking a lot.'

Nobody moved.

'How long should this take?' Matthew asked silently. 'The whole operation?'

'A little bit over a week, I guess.' Demetre replied. 'Provided no more action is to be taken apart from looking around in the designated area.' If the man was still angry at the vault dweller he hid it wonderfully.

Matthew nodded. The company owner looked each of the people present in the eye in silence and nodded, pausing a bit longer on his daughter. Matthew knew he didn't want her to go and Matthew actually missed half a night's sleep thanks to the argument that won Keri the right to go. Though Matthew guessed he wrote her up on the best team possible.

'Then you are to leave tomorrow morning. Good luck.'

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-12 02:56 PM

Tabitha had already started packing when Ian walked into the room and, with a mischievous grin, sneaked up behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her in for a passionate kiss, and playfully threw her on the nearby bed.

'Ian, I'm packing!' Tabitha laughed. He smiled and kissed her in the neck, his fingers tickling her sides and making her giggle, which sounded more like someone having trouble breathing. 'God, aren't you the attention hoarder today!'

Ian stopped the kissing and tickling and lied down beside her, his face centimetres away from hers.

'Will you stay here with me?'

'You mean at the Hub?'

He nodded. She laughed. 'Of course I will. I came here with the intention to stay, after all.'

'That's awesome.' He kissed her again.

'Shouldn't you be packing as well?' Tabitha asked, delighted by the sudden burst of affection.

'Yeah, I was gonna. Then I thought of something better.'

'Sneaking up on me and pinning me down on a bed?'

'No, this.' He smiled and kissed her on the lips. She returned the kiss.

'We should be getting ready.' She said when the kiss was eventually broken. Ian nodded.

'I'll go get some stuff.' He stood up. As he was about to leave Tabitha called his name and he turned around to find her smiling at him mischievously.

'You do realize this is the last night before we're cooped up with six more people?'

Ian smile widened. 'I'll see you later, honey.'

Tabitha laughed at the name while he slowly walked out of the room and shut the door behind him, smiling. He hasn't been so happy in a long time.

He slowly made his way to the main room of the office and suddenly bumped into a face his memory hadn't even brought up these last few days: Rhonda.

'Hello, Ian.' She said coldly.

'Hi, Rhonda... How have you been?'

She shrugged. 'Dad's still dead. And you ran out on me when I needed you.'

'And saved two people from a terrifying monster in a nick of time. I'm sorry you feel sad about it.'

'Of course.' She said coldly, taking her gaze off of the mercenary and sticking it to a wall. 'You did, after all, perform a great service for the city.'

'Why are you here?'

She looked back at him. 'The Society wishes to help the mutant extermination effort, even if by coordinating activities. I'm here to check up on Crimson Caravans. Why, you don't even want to see my face anymore?'

'Rhonda, it's not like that. You're my friend and I want to be there for you, but you're being... unreasonable.'

She chuckled darkly. 'A friend? I thought we were so much more.'

'Life changes. I'm sorry.'

'I'm sorry, he says. Wonderful.'

The two of them locked gazes and kept them that way for a minute. Finally, Ian spoke up.

'I guess that's all.'

He turned around and went outside, leaving Rhonda alone in the room, both anger and sorrow flooding her heart, and himself shocked by the way she changed so much in such a short time.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-01-16 04:27 PM

Matthew's feet ached due to long lack of using them as they once again took to the wasteland. The trek, despite being now in the company of eight, was a silent one as everybody was on their guard, reasonably afraid of being attacked by one of these reportedly gruesome mutants that have already managed to drag over a dozen caravans into the wasteland.

Despite his aching legs Matthew kept walking, determined to see this task to the end. This was something he was doing for his comrades, trying to return all the favours, even though there were too many for him to make up for in one lifetime. For that he was ready to give it his best shot. That was why he kept silent about his aching feet and kept alert of his surroundings.

Matthew, the silent man Curtis, and the other two Crimson mercenaries in the group that the vault dweller didn't know, were sharpshooters, the group relying more on tracking and killing these monsters form a distance instead of meeting them head-on. Keri, as much as she preferred close combat with her SMG, was also put on sharpshooter duty by her fretting father, something that caused endless irritation to her. The tall mercenary woman in the group, Hailey, was loyal to Demetre's plan and was the reason why instead of spending time with her friend Ian she had to watch them from a distance, all sharpshooters having walked away from the rest of the group in order to survey the wasteland properly. Matthew being half-doctor half-sharpshooter and there being five sharpshooters in the group he didn't end up alone, but instead in the company of Curtis, who, while rather non-talkative, provided him with tips and tricks of trade. It was refreshing for Matthew to meet new people. New people meant Matthew being able to look at another person without being reminded just how bad he was. It was like an opportunity to start again.

'Are you afraid of actually finding those mutants?' Matthew asked Curtis once to break the silence, in that cold determined voice he struggled to keep up for the sake of the mission. The man frowned behind his giant shades.

'No. That's the point of us being here.'

'I know, but still... I think most of us would rather not meet those hulking monsters. God knows what they're capable of.'

'And are you?'

'A bit. But I'd rather encounter them than let them run loose around the Hub.'

Curtis nodded and said nothing.

'You still didn't answer my question, though.'

Matthew didn't know if it really happened or if it was just his eyes playing tricks on him, but for a moment it looked as if there was a barely noticeable amused smirk on the stoic man's face.

'No. There's little my rifle can't take care of.'

'Ah.' Matthew rolled his eyes. 'So you're the cool bruiser kid.'

Now there was definitely a smirk on his face, as slight as it was. Matthew smirked the same way and resumed looking out into the wasteland.

'How did you kill Daren?' Curtis's question pierced the silence.

Matthew snapped his head at the mercenary.

'Just asking.'

Most of the mercenaries in the company didn't know just how much Matthew was involved – even Demetre stayed quiet about it – but Matthew was always afraid one of the few mercs that saw Ian and him come back that night would put two and two together and find out.

'Cut his throat in his sleep.' He replied coldly, trying to sound unmovable.

'Wow... Cold.'

'Whatever.' Matthew murmured under his breath. Curtis was still amused.

'Half-doctor, half-sniper, half-assassin. Intriguing.'

'That's three halves.'

Curtis's amused grin was there for all to see now.

'What's the point of this interrogation?' Matthew asked, trying his best to hide his irritation.

'It just seemed strange that someone like you had the balls to actually kill Hightower.'

'Someone like me?' Matthew was now visibly irritated.

'Just mean someone looking like you. You don't look like much. Sorry.'

'Whatever.' Matthew rolled his eyes, irritated instead of insulted.

'I bet you're the brain of the outfit?' Curtis asked.

'What?'

'Apparently not.' He smirked again. 'You look like someone who's probably not very good in a fight but has a lot of cunning. I thought maybe you're the brain of your team.'

'You mean Ian, Tabitha and Tycho?' Matthew frowned. 'You're shooting in the dark?'

'Maybe the negotiator...'

'Why the hell are you interested in that?' Matthew asked, his irritation bouncing right off of the man's smirk.

'You're something of a legend, around the office at least, because we knew you were friends with Ian and then pissed him off. It's because we only knew that that we cut our imaginations lose while trying to guess what you did.'

'But you already knew. Now you feel like you're a part of this thing and trying to assume the rest. And I hope you know what you do when you assume.'

The sniper chuckled. 'So then, tell me, what's behind that façade of yours, then?'

Matthew smirked. 'I need someone to teach me to shoot.'

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-01-18 02:52 PM

Matthew couldn't help keeping crouching and looking back all the way from the dune where Curtis lied down to the train of mercs he'd signalled to stop. Due to that fact the other sharpshooters were also there and he was spared the trouble of repeating himself.

'There's some old factory over there,' Matthew motioned towards Curtis's position as he spoke quietly. 'A huge fucking monster like the one we found in the caves is on the roof.'

The faces of all six people suddenly dropped at the news as they realized they'll have to be the ones to face the mutants.

'Recon first, decide on tactics when we see the thing.' Tabitha stated calmly with a shrug, unmoved by the news. The seven crept back to Curtis, who was lying in the sand partially covered from the factory by a rock, his sniper rifle aimed at the head of the mutant, ready to fire at the first sign of it having seen him. The mercs took turns peeking behind the rocks to the plant.

The plant in question was a Pre-War RobCo factory, something to with robots from the weathered Protectron painted by the door, complete with a little speech bubble that had what was probably 'Welcome' written on it. The south-eastern corner of the structure, the one closest to them, looked like a normal three-story office building while the actual plant, one story shorter, was attached to its northern and western wall, making the whole structure still seem square from bird's view. All of the windows of the office and factory parts were broken and the place seemed dead silent, apart from a hulking human-like beast slowly walking in circles atop the offices. A small parking lot, most of which was covered with sand, stood between them and the factory, which was located on a comparatively smooth stretch of the wasteland, making the dune from which they observed the building the closest object to it that can block the view, and naturally the best place from which to launch the attack. Alas, looking at the hulking beast on the rooftop and then the stretch of plain ground between it and the humans made Matthew feel more than uncomfortable.

Curtis resumed his watch alone as the rest of the mercs met at the bottom of the dune to discuss what they just saw.

'Judging from their previous accomplishments, even the most obvious route of attack can very likely prove to be a death trap.' One of the unfamiliar mercs said. The rest nodded in agreement.

'Maybe wait for the dark?' Hailey suggested.

'No.' Ian shook his head. 'Probably best to keep as much distance between us as possible. They've at least got the strength advantage and that tough skin of theirs unsettles me.'

'If they're as dumb as they look they might just come out if we take out that sentry.' Hailey tried again.

'No.' Matthew objected. 'They've got some sort of a long-distance radio connection and the military-like discipline that was evident in the transmissions, they're probably smart enough to know how to play it to their advantage, which would be what Ian said.'

'We could wait for reinforcements...' Ian suggested.

'That could take a couple of days.' Tabitha shook her head. 'Though they'll have to move out of there sooner or later, we might try to catch them as they leave, on an open field, with the advantage of range.'

'We can sneak behind them when they leave too.' Matthew suggested. 'Place ourselves between the factory and them, fall back into the safety of that old structure if they prove too much.'

'That's assuming they all leave at once.' Keri suggested.

'I don't see any reason for them not to.' Tabitha opined. 'They managed to get away with so many caravans undetected so far, surely that's not because they leave troops behind at every desolate building they come across.'

'Today's the eighteenth.' Keri noticed. 'Those Far Go hardheads send out their caravans on the eighteenth, and the one heading for Junktown would pass though a trail nearby...'

'We have to warn them then.' Matthew said. 'If Far Go has decent firepower we can squeeze those mutants between our two groups.

'Damn, and it's right on the last day before heading back!' Sophia cursed.

'Hey, we found some of them and that was our task!' Keri reminded her. 'Kyle, you're fast on your feet, try to intercept those Far Go guys before they come here. They have shitty firepower so maybe it's best not to involve them. If they're looking to attack that caravan they'll have to leave in a matter of hours, probably around six or seven, or later if they want to attack while half the traders are asleep.'

'Might be too dark by then.' Ian opined.

'If it is, we can always call it off. Let's wait for now.' She settled the matter and nodded to Kyle, who immediately turned on his heels and ran off to carry out his task. 'I'll try to contact the other teams, maybe we can get some more guns in here before the show starts.'

The six people nodded and settled down on the ground, Keri walking away a bit and starting fidgeting with her radio.

'I doubt I've ever been as nervous as I am now.' Ian said as he settled down on the sand and produced some iguana-on-a-stick from his rucksack.

'I'm gonna go check on Curtis.' Matthew said.

'Better lie down, rest some, we don't know when we're gonna have to jump into the action.' Tabitha suggested.

'I've got too little blood in my adrenaline right now for that.' Matthew joked. 'Please make sure Dogmeat doesn't follow me.'

Tabitha nodded and smiled to the mutt, patting the sand beside her. Dogmeat slowly approached the merc so she could stroke and scratch him as a means of distraction.

Matthew found Curtis enjoying some canned Pre-war meal while hiding fully behind the rock as he ascended the dune.

'That's eighty-year-old shit.' Matthew frowned.

'Tastes okay to me.' Curtis replied neutrally.

'That's thanks to artificial flavouring. It seems to be rather resilient, unlike all the other stuff in it that still decays to some degree. And it is exactly that stuff you should be after.'

'Why the fuck would anyone know about that?'

'It's called being an educated person. Personally, I hate those iguana things, but I'm pretty sure you're better off eating that.'

'No, thanks.' Curtis smirked.

'So... Why are you stuffing your face when you should be keeping watch?'

'I still am. From time to time. What, you expect me to lie around in the sand with my eye in the scope for the next two days?'

'Probably next few hours, but still... Good to know we have some decent people on the lookout...' Matthew said sarcastically. Curtis smirked again in return.

'They say that the smart ones are usually halfway to insanity.'

Matthew rolled his eyes. 'You're assuming again. Anyway, maybe you should eat down there, get filled in on the plan. I'll look around for a while.'

'Okay.' Curtis slowly shuffled from his place. 'If you get spotted by the mutants, I'll do my best to put one in you before they do.'

'You can try.' Matthew smiled as the sniper passed him.

Peeking behind the rock Matthew took another look at the building, thoughts and ideas regarding attacking it whirling in his head. In the end he just sighed and retreated behind the rock.

The situation he was in seemed pretty intense and it laid heavily on him, but for some reason he didn't feel like running or regretting coming here. He was calm and concentrated, like a man given a chance to redeem himself if he can perform a task successfully. There wasn't even such a thing as a merc life in his head anymore, it was now simply survival, and paying your debts.

He gave the factory one last look. Guess he'll be either paying his debts or dying, and that was absolutely fine with him.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-01-18 07:47 PM

The Sun was already about to set when Curtis finally gave the signal to Keri to get everyone on their feet and ready for action. The seven mercenaries crawled to the top of the dune and witnessed six tall mutants, including the rooftop sentry, exiting to the parking lot and then slowly starting walking around the building to set off to the west. Given the mercenaries' location east of the building, it was excellent, but not unforeseen given the probable location of where thee Far Go men would hopefully not be sleeping that night.

They planned to have Ian and Tabitha go into the factory first, but upon seeing one of the mutants locking the factory door Matthew stepped forward in order to advance with them and unlock the door, still somewhat curious as to how in the world these mutants found the key to the door and how they were able to use it with those beefy hands of theirs.

As the mutants went around the building the three mercenaries slowly approached the door, relying on the sharpshooters on the dune for cover if anything goes wrong. They were planning on entering the building and taking note of its interior before opening fire.

Matthew made short work of the ancient lock and slowly opened the door into the office's reception area. It was a dusty room with colour bleached out of its cream-coloured linoleum and walls, and the reception tables themselves seemed to be made entirely of splinters. The lights were off, not like they could be on at this point, and it added to the gloomy atmosphere Matthew immediately shuddered at. He seriously hated the leftovers of the old world.

As the three entered and stopped a moment to wait for the rest of the crew, they took in their surroundings, noticing the door on the right, which probably led to the factory area, and the door on the left, which probably led to the rest of the office area. When the rest of the crew arrived, Keri motioned to Curtis and Matthew to go left and place themselves on the rooftop while the rest slowly approached the door to the actual facility.

The facility, a three-story high open space, littered with strange giant machinery, connected with conveyor belts, all offline. Keri noticed small stairs leading to the overhangs above the whole area and the operation rooms above, noting that these overhangs, with the windows alongside them, could be used to return fire should they need to fall back. With a small motion she had Hailey following her on the way up. Ian, Tabitha and Tycho were to cross the facility and try to leave through the back door or whatever they could find.

'Good stuff.' Curtis smiled as he unlocked a lone first aid box hanging on the wall of a fourth story corridor and produced from it a small syringe with small letters painted on it. Matthew frowned.

'Not the time to be looting, Curtis.'

The sniper didn't offer any kind of reply, only closed the box and started towards Matthew who continued his process down the hall towards what would hopefully be the rooftop access.

He found the ladder leading to the small manhole and ascended it, Curtis following closely behind. He took point, ascended the ladder, and opened the manhole.

Suddenly there was a sound, like a tense string snapping, and out of nowhere, several grenades fell from the gap in the manhole down into the corridor in front of Matthew's nose.

'Grenade!' The vault dweller managed to shout as he kicked off with all his might to get on the rooftop before they detonated. He heard Curtis cursing as he slipped his upper half on the edge of the manhole, his feet dangling helpless atop the shaft the manhole's cover having fallen on his lower back.

A deafening explosion resounded just below Matthew and the entire ancient building seemed to rock violently at the sound. Matthew took it as a blow to the head. He closed his eyes and commanded his feet to keep kicking the air until he was safe on the rooftop the shock having been so intense that he couldn't say for sure if he really still had legs. After all, they have been so close to the explosion.

'Fuck!' Matthew swore when he finally dared to look at his legs, uncertain of they were still there. They were there alright, but there was also blood on them, and a second later Matthew saw a piece of shrapnel protruding two centimetres from his right leg.

With a deep breath, he set to work on the injury, oblivious to the noises of another explosion.

In the factory space, Keri suddenly turned around at the sound of the first explosion and it was only by chance that she noticed a small object flying towards her and Hailey.

'Grenade!' The woman shouted as she thrust herself down a flight of steel stairs. She could both hear and feel the explosion that soon followed, and could all too well feel her collision with the last two steps of the flight, a sudden electrical current having zapped her left arm.

A second later she was sprayed with blood and managed to make out the gurgling noises coming out of Hailey's mouth. Noises that meant death.

Ian, Tabitha and Tycho turned around on their heels at the sound of the first explosion and bore witness to Hailey's death, a grenade that tore both of her legs off of her.

Behind Hailey's body, on top of the stairs in the doorway of a control room they saw a hulking mutant with a grenade in his hand and a flamer resting against the doorframe by its leg.

Tycho was the first one to raise his weapon and the 5mm bullets of his assault rifle bore into the tough skin of the hand of the mutant, the one the grenade was held in. The grenade's ring was already missing and thanks to the ranger's shots, the throw went wide and the grenade landed far to the right of the companions. Tabitha's shotgun immediately roared as she started slowly closing in towards the stairs and the mutant, Ian at her side. The hulking mutant roared in pain and shook his arm before swiftly picking up the flamer that lay by his side.

Tycho's assault rifle started spewing lead again and Tabitha immediately noticed it wasn't directed at the mutant above. Against herself, she whipped her head to the left and saw that Tycho was apparently shooting at a floating bloodstain in the doorway. There was suddenly a dim flash of light in the air above the stain as she at the same time became aware of some automatic rifle bullets landing on the stairwell just a metre below and the bright light of the flamer the fires of which reached as close as two metres from her face.

She noticed in her peripheral vision that Ian knelt down and started dragging Keri downstairs unaware of the new source of danger, but, in a split second decision made up her mind to let several shots rip toward what she assumed was the doorway above, now invisible through the raging flames.

The breath of fire wavered.

Several metres away from her, a stray bullet from Tycho's burst accidentally hit some metal object and, out of nowhere, what seemed like a cloud of gas distorting the view turned into a mutant. Tycho had gone down to the cave to witness that dead mutant in the Hub, but was still surprised by the appearance of what materialized before him. Unlike the mutant in the Hub, this one had a strong blue tint to its skin colour and wore what looked like tight-fitting leather clothes pulled on its massive frame. The weapon in its hand, more frighteningly, was an M60 machine gun.

The strange blue mutant switched targets from Ian, Keri and Tabitha to Tycho and the man was suddenly aware that he wasn't shooting. He pressed down on the trigger and stepped back, hoping to place a large piece of machinery between him and the mutant as he fired. The M60 flared up a second before the ranger could reach safety and he felt the 7.62mm bullet graze his right arm.

'Shit!' He cursed as he tried to put another clip into his assault rifle with his hand that was already refusing to listen. On the other side of the machinery, the mutant was ready to approach the ranger when a sudden burst from Ian's SMG made the foe stop in its tracks in surprise. Tycho looked to the left and saw Ian standing protectively between the mutant and Keri, who was struggling to sit up, and Tabitha, who was running up the stairs while reloading, approaching a mutant that was struggling with some sort of malfunction with its flamer, which was most probably caused by one of the woman's shots.

It was a split second before the mutant started towards the cover of the machinery and upon seeing that Tycho decided to back away.

'Tabitha, get down!' Ian exclaimed as the woman put the killing blow right in the forehead of the mutant struggling with the flamer. As soon as the warning was uttered she lithely bypassed the collapsing foe and dove into the office though the doorway which was a second later peppered with bullets by the mutant with the machine gun, now standing in Tycho's place while the ranger himself was once again on the other side of the obstacle, rushing to make use of the opportunity and spray the foe from behind. The mutant quickly stopped shooting and turned around, predicting Tycho's action, and the ranger managed to jump back a second before the machinegun furiously sprayed the wall with bullets.

Ian kept spraying the mutant with his SMG, but as it dove towards Tycho and got out of his line of fire he instead grabbed Keri again and started dragging her towards the safety behind another huge piece of machinery.

As he dove into safety and all of the gunshots went silent for the moment, a chill ran down Ian's spine as he registered the unmistakeable sound of a sniper rifle coming from the rooftop.

The first gun to return to life after the silence was Tabitha's .44 Magnum. The woman decided to drop her shotgun, which was meant for close assaults after all, and went for the pistol, which was more accurate and pretty useful at the range of 20-something metres due to its large calibre. Ian sidestepped and held down the trigger of his SMG aimed at the mutant's back. The mutant dashed forward to place the machine between him and the assailants, his M60 firing randomly ahead to kill Tycho who the mutant knew will be there. Tycho, however, had already dashed past the door the mutant came to the factory area through and as soon as the machine gun was dry, quickly sidestepped back into the room, spraying the mutant's head with a 5mm salve. The creature staggered back and dropped the weapon and Tycho kept firing on him until the clip was empty. He dove back to replace it and as he poked his head out again, the foe was down on the ground, struggling for its life. A short spray from the ranger's gun, however, quickly ended that struggle.

'We gotta move!' Ian exclaimed as soon as the foe was dead. 'There's sniper fire on the roof!'

The companions dashed towards Tycho, quickly assessing the mutants that left are now returning and their best bet was to leave the way came. However, there was no sniper rifle fire on the rooftop, only the machinegun fire outside, to the west of the factory, probably aimed at the rooftop.

Tycho dove into the reception area and quickly rummaged though his pockets for a stimpak for his arm. Ian and Tabitha rushed in second, with Keri supported on their shoulders.

'Please let those guys be running down here now!' Tabitha exclaimed as she gently let go of Keri and reloaded her combat shotgun. 'Wounds?'

'My arm.' Tycho reported, pushing in the needle of the stimpak into his arm. Ian shook his head and Keri grinned, though the pain she was going through was obvious in that grin.

At that moment, a mutant suddenly rushed into the building though the main entry, brandishing an M60 in its hands, but its charge was stopped abruptly as Tabitha quickly whipped her shotgun to the left and hastily shot four times at the creature's head. Before the dead mutant's body hit the floor another stood in his place, but was met by five buck-shots and a spray from Ian's SMG, following its comrade to the next life.

'Curtis! Matthew!' Tabitha exclaimed suddenly, praying to god they were alive and still not on the rooftop.

'Go ahead!' Came Matthew's voice from somewhere within the offices, still on the same level at least.

'Like hell!' Tabitha muttered under her breath. 'Get Keri out of here!' She commanded Ian as she dashed through the door into the offices.

She almost ran into limping Matthew in the hallway, Dogmeat faithfully by his master's side.

'Curtis?' She asked hastily.

'Sorry.' He replied. Tabitha grabbed the vault dweller's arm, jumped under it, and helped the young man out of the building. Ian and Keri were already at the foot of the dune and Tycho had his assault rifle trained at the door behind them.

'Hailey?' Matthew asked.

Tabitha didn't reply, all of her will bent on at least making it to the top of the dune before the mutants got on top of them, swearing all the way up.

The shots of machine guns and the whirring of miniguns were heard at the moment Matthew and Tabitha were at the top of the dune and the two dropped behind the rock instantly.

'Shit!' Ian cursed. 'We won't outrun them!'

Keri slowly got on all fours and took out her Sniper Rifle having dropped the SMG on the factory floor.

'Then we'll stand and fight!' The woman exclaimed as she made her way to the rock and Matthew and Tabitha, struggling to get their guns in their hands again.

'Dogmeat!' Tycho called the dog and it quickly ran up to the ranger. 'Sit!' He then commanded and approached his comrades on the dune, his assault rifle in his hands and a determined expression on his face. Matthew swiftly produced several stimpaks from his doctor's bag.

'Stick them where it hurts and get ready then.' He said with determination as he did just that to his right leg, which had a surgical tube tourniquet right above the still protruding piece of shrapnel.

The companions nodded and took their places, Keri swiftly abandoning the rifle for the .223 pistol.

'Ammo?' Tabitha asked quietly as she sat down on the ground, the rock to her back and her eyes on her right, to the north.

'Two bullets and two clips.' Matthew replied from her side, the sniper rifle he was given by Crimson Caravans in his hands.

'Around eighteen and a clip.' Tycho reported from just below them, following Tabitha's gaze. 'Keri's got five clips.' He said as he drew four more clips from a pocket and handed them to the woman who was sat next to him.

'Around ten bullets and two clips.' Ian reported, sitting down beside Matthew. Tabitha drew her .44 Magnum and handed it to him without a word. Matthew drew his 10mm pistol and two clips and gave them to Tycho.

Tabitha took a look at the situation below.

'Two circling from the north.' She reported. 'There should only be the other two still standing, so they're probably circling from the south.'

Ian and Keri suddenly turned at that direction. Matthew followed them briefly seeing as there was a greater distance to the southern edge of the dune than the northern.

'So this is where we make our stand?' Matthew asked with a grim smile.

'It is.' Tabitha replied plainly. 'Let's show them how they do it in the Hub.'

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-01-18 10:16 PM

It was Kyle's intention to warn the Far Go men off of taking their usual route and then run back to the factory as fast as he could but he was delayed by bloodthirsty but slow Far Go guards tagging along and slowing him down. Three of them went along with the Crimson merc, two brandishing under-maintained hunting rifles and one an assault rifle. He didn't believe it would make much of a difference.

He made sure to make a wide circle around the factory out of its sight and approached the dune at the bottom of which his comrades spent several hours that day. The first thing he saw was a dead mutant. Then, a few metres ahead, another. A small fire was going up ahead and he could see two human-sized figures sitting by it, and another lying down.

'Tycho!' Kyle called out, remembering the ranger's strange name with effort. The ranger waved his hand for them to approach. He immediately noticed the bandage on the man's right arm, and the bandage in Matthew's hands as he slowly rolled it around a wound on his right leg. He recognized the lying figure as Keri.

'It's over?' Kyle asked.

The ranger nodded, obviously tired and seemingly a decade older than the last time the merc saw him. The young physician sitting by his side was pale and had dark rings around his eyes, but his look was still very present and even sharp, almost to the point of making Kyle feel uncomfortable.

'What happened?'

Tycho looked into the fire as if it was showing him some place far away. There was a silence before the man replied. 'We followed the plan. We were ambushed in the factory. We lost Hailey and Curtis.'

'How's Miss Romara?'

'Broken left hand, multiple bruises on the left leg, a small flesh wound on the head, and two 5mm bullets in the right leg.' Matthew answered the question, his voice cold and firm. That finally made the young mercenary shiver. 'She's wounded badly and she'll live if she gets a blood transfusion pretty damn quick.'

A look of shock crept on the mercenary's face. 'Those... those rarely work, don't they?'

'Only when handled by halfwits who wouldn't know what a blood type is if it kicked them in the ass. Of course, no one knows anyone's blood type in these fucking times so Ian and Tabitha are combing the ruins in search of blood packs. And before you ask, they contain synthetic blood that will certainly work regardless of the blood type, but the recovery will be that much more of a bitch.'

Kyle was speechless.

'I'm gonna settle down now.' Tycho announced as he stood up and started towards the factory. 'Been a long day. Mind helping Matthew to bring Keri inside that building?'

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-20 10:07 AM

Demetre spent the night by his daughter's side as the local doctor and Matthew (who was deemed by many to be way better than the elderly doc despite being kind of creepy) took care of daughter. Exhausted from night after night of tending to other people Matthew was absent when Demetre finally called Ian, Tycho and Tabitha to his office for a report.

'So Hailey and Curtis have passed away...' Demetre started on a sombre note.

'Indeed. Far Go men were so grateful to us for warning them off certain death that they agreed to retrieve their corpses... or what's left of them at least.' Tabitha reported, still exhausted from the ordeal.

'The rest of us are injured.' Ian spoke up. 'Keri's got it worst, but Matthew's confident she'll be fine. The rest of us have grazes and bullets in non-vital spots. Eight mutants are dead, the Far Go men and some of our own will bring them in, especially the curious one with the blue skin.'

Demetre sighed at that: another crazy thing to deal with. 'Matthew said that that blue mutant was wearing a Stealth-Boy, a piece of pre-war tech.' Ian continued. 'It makes its wearer invisible.'

'Almost invisible.' Tycho corrected. 'I still noticed it as it stepped in to ambush us. It was like a ripple in the air, like there was a gas leak.'

'That's still fucking horrible.' Demetre replied. The owner of Crimson Caravans never swore. This meant things were bad. 'So they... ambushed you?'

'The six of them left the building for the caravan as you know,' Ian explained, 'but two more, including the almost-invisible one, stayed in the building. We believe... We believe they spotted us. The ambush was planned too well. It all started with grenades on our sharpshooters on the roof, the greatest threat to them. They also determined we'd place some men in factory by the windows and attacked those, cutting off our smallest parties. It was... a well-laid trap. If it wasn't for Tycho and Tabitha's lucky shots it could've ended badly... Well, worse.'

Demetre said nothing for a while, just stared at the surface of his desk, his right hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

'We lost six more people.' he finally said. 'Another team encountered the mutants. One of the survivors will never walk again. You were the strongest of our teams, probably all teams, and you got away with your lives partially due to luck, as I now find.'

'At least the trade is safe once again.' Tabitha suggested.

'Indeed.' Demetre stopped rubbing his nose and attempted a smile. 'I'm sorry. It's hard to see that in these circumstances... But you're right. We probably got them all. I'm just worried.'

'She'll be fine.' Ian reassured.

'I must say I feel quite... more confident now that Matthew's by her side. He's a great physician from what I've heard and it seems now that he carried out a blood transfusion without killing the patient.'

Tabitha raised an eyebrow. She suspected Demetre still held a grudge against Matthew and only never showed it because that's the kind of man he is, but to actually hear him complimenting the vault dweller...

'People consider him creepy, though.' Demetre added. 'Especially after that whole Daren ordeal, from what pieces of truth they could gather.'

'Don't worry, he won't be staying long.' Tabitha replied, rolling her eyes. 'He has things to take care of somewhere else.'

'I see.' Demetre's answer did little to reveal his emotional reaction to that. 'I guess it's for the best, things are complicated as they are... But he's a damn good doctor.'

Ian and Tabitha smiled at that statement, though because of different reasons. Ian found it funny how sometimes, without even realizing, Demetre put gain before morals. Tabitha was just proud of the young man's accomplishments.


	15. Sun

A/N: Fallout ain't mine.

A/N 2: Some filler/orphan/misfit chapter again. Pardon my briefness.

* * *

><p>The Sun slowly made its way up towards the zenith and some of its rays found their way into the Crimson Caravan offices through a lone window, heating up his feet first, then the legs, the torso and the left hand, and, finally, the face. As soon as the rays hit his eyes, he woke up and immediately frowned. Who the fuck forgot to close the curtains last night?<p>

He turned on his other side intending to sleep the morning through with his face away from the insulting celestial body when he noticed she was in the bed with him, awake and smiling.

'Good morning.' Tabitha said quietly.

'Morning.' Ian moaned more than greeted. His was the statement. It was morning. What of it except for that way-too-bright sun?

'It's around eleven.' Tabitha guessed. 'You should be on your way soon.'

'As soon as that goddamn flashlight up there fucks off.' Ian stated. She chuckled.

'So you could use up flashlights that actually require batteries while you work? Nobody likes you enough to give you such luxury.'

'Way to be supportive, Betty.'

She laughed and punched him in the shoulder playfully. He smiled and kissed her in response, then spent a few minutes admiring her eyes before finally getting up and putting on some clothes.

'Shouldn't you be off as well?' He asked zipping his pants.

'Discipline is the art of balance between work and rest. I deem it necessary for my disciples to rest now.'

'Come on, you'll wait until high noon and then devise some sort of a cruel punishment for those who 'dare' to still be asleep.'

'You know me too well.' She laughed. 'If you can't close the curtains for yourself, do that for me, please, thank you.' She asked as she closed her eyes. Ian rolled his eyes and did as he was told. When he looked at her again she was already asleep.

The inner yard of the office, the one Keri dubbed 'The Old Woman's Garden', was now refurbished into a sort of a workshop. Half a dozen new recruits flocked into Crimson Caravans following the heroic Mutant Hunt where Crimson Caravan took out two of the three groups, the third having killed off the Far Go party and run off. As one of the more technically-minded people, at least as far as it concerned guns, Ian was charged with the inspection and repair of the salvaged and damaged weapons, which, due to sudden lack of space, took place on a few scavenged tables in the yard. Of course, most of the weapons have been repaired and Ian was simply taking his time fiddling around with the more 'exotic' ones, machine-guns in particular, wanting to learn how to repair them in advance.

He yawned and stretched as soon as he was outside, looking forward to the day of comfortable solitude, when he noticed Matthew sitting on a bench with a rather sizable book in his hands.

'Morning.' Ian greeted, now somewhat less of a morning-time bitch thanks to the suddenly-not-so-offensive Sun. 'What're you up to?'

'Morning. Surgery.'

Ian's eyebrow shot up. 'Why?'

'Why not?' Matthew shrugged. 'Once you know all the simpler stuff it's not so hard learn, at least theoretically. Besides, the more about this I know the more useful I can be. And finally, I was somehow drafted into new recruits for Crimson by Tabitha and she's probably going to have me punch walls for the rest of the day if I'm still asleep whenever she gets up.'

Ian chuckled. 'Well, if you're not punching anything by the time she gets here you're still going to get punished. She just likes to see you squirm.'

Matthew gave him an amused look. 'Punch anything? Is that an invitation?'

'What? Think you can take me on?' Ian laughed.

'In my dreams.' Matthew waved his hand. 'In my dreams every night.'

'Smartass.' Ian laughed. 'Get your rifle, inspect it, at least that'll be something approximating mercenary training.'

'Fine.' Matthew conceded, put down the book, yawned and stretched. He went into the cool of the Crimson Caravans office and returned soon with his old hunting rifle in hand. He cleaned and double-checked it while Ian kept fiddling with the other guns. Tabitha entered the yard at noon, looked at Matthew, then at Ian, murmured something about filthy rats collaborating to undermine her, and went to search for the other recruits whose training she was entrusted with in order to do something to them that she could laugh at.

It was one week since they returned from the accursed RobCo facility and one week until the caravans leave. The presence of the Sun overhead was getting longer each day.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-27 12:12 PM

Tycho lined up his rifle and took a few shots, his target being far away and hitting it requiring extra carefulness. The Sun, high atop her throne on the Zenith did nothing to aid the ranger in his task. The third squeeze of the trigger did it; his target dropped to the ground, dead.

'Disgusting.' The ranger frowned as he approach what was once a farm a few kilometres outside the Hub but was now turned into a raider hideout, complete with obnoxious paintings and dead bodies put on display on poles and crucifixes everywhere. 'Truly disgusting.'

The rest of the mercenaries moved inside the farm to catch their breath before heading back again, but Tycho decided to stay outside and have a smoke.

He took another look at the bodies of the poor folk turned into grisly decoration, rotting away in the Sun. He then gazed upon the mutated corn crowing around the farm, fed and nourished by the Sun. Funny.

It was a truly slow day, even it contained murder for him. The raiders that have taken over this place had been armed with bows and spears and proved to be a small challenge. These people deserved to die for what they did to honest, hard-working farmers. He felt no compassion for them, and at the same time scolded himself for having these thoughts despite trying to teach Matthew to respect life. Given, he almost gave up on that plan following the mutant hunt afraid the young man had too much on his mind, but he was determined to continue as soon as there was a chance. These things should be done delicately, he'd come to conclude, nourished until the day chance smiles on such causes.

'So the savages have seen justice.' A woman spoke up behind them. The ranger turned around and saw Rhonda Hightower approach the farm.

'Good day.' He nodded. 'The farm has been reclaimed without so much as a scratch on our side.'

'Good to hear. Thank you.' Rhonda nodded. 'It is peculiar that you should take up this task organized directly by the Society; I almost took you for a Crimson Caravans man.'

'We desert rangers go where we are needed. We serve our ideals, not men.'

'A virtuous outlook.' Rhonda complimented. 'Good to see honest people these days. God knows the Hub is in chaos. Decker is finally dead, the murdering bastard, but his absence creates a vacuum of power, and it cannot stay this way for long. If it's not behind-closed-doors agreements that reek just like the Underground it's various scum trying to take over my father's legacy.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'You are doing honest work and that in itself is comfort enough.'

'Your father's wealth now serves the Society directly, I assume?'

'What's left of it after the vultures, yes, but it's not that much, and most of it goes to repairing and sustaining itself... Besides, there are more complications regarding inheritance... Why?'

'Just trying to find the silver lining. Men must move on no matter what, each change, no matter how tragic, also serves as a new beginning, a chance to change something.'

Rhonda considered these words for a moment.

'Your words poke a wound, friend, but they are made of reason and good intentions. Thank you.'

'You're welcome.' The ranger paused. 'Ian is sorry, you know.'

'I'm just trying to move on...' She waved her hand dismissively.

'Sorry.'

'It is fine. I think... I would like you to tell him that I shall be leaving. The routes are safe once again and I shall be escorting a caravan to Shady Sands. I need to get away from all this.'

'Are you sure you belong in a wasteland caravan?'

'I am a pretty good sharpshooter, I will manage. Besides, there are more than enough guards as it is, I'll be safe. I just want you to tell Ian that... I'm still mad at him, and I believe I am righteous in my anger. Alas, I hope that when I return we will be able to speak as people, not beasts.'

Tycho nodded. 'I'll pass that along, ma'am.'

'Thank you. And thank you for your work here.' Rhonda nodded curtly.

'We'll be heading back in a bit if you fancy an escort...'

'It's fine, I enjoy the peace.' Rhonda smiled. 'Have a nice day.'

'And you.'

Rhonda turned around and left slowly. Tycho threw the butt of his cigarette to the ground. People are hard to comprehend.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-27 02:12 PM

The Sun was at its hottest and most hostile when Matthew made his way back to the same house he kept visiting every day for the last week. Immediately upon entering the plywood and slate building at the edge of the town he thought about listing the advantages of clay structures regarding temperature regimes to the owners. Then again, it's not like anything could be done about it.

Dave was a twenty-two year old Crimson Caravans employee who was on the other Crimson team that faced the mutants. He was shot in the leg at the beginning of a drawn-out combat and the wound soon got infected. By the time the only other surviving member dragged him back to the Hub, hindered by his own grazed torso and sprained ankle, the left leg was beyond saving. The old town's doc amputated the leg with Matthew watching the procedure with both professional curiosity and pity, especially upon learning of the man's right arm, broken in one place and fractured in another, and the two gunshot wounds with less dire results. He didn't feel any disgust while looking at the old man sawing away through muscle tissue, but the pity he felt kept him coming back to the young man's bed each day to reassure the skittish boy that he would indeed live.

He removed the bandages from the last of the bullet wounds and inspected the scar.

'It's okay, the wound's closed and there is no sign of infection.' Matthew diagnosed. Dave sighed in relief. 'What, you thought I would have to amputate half of your torso?'

'You doctors and your humour...' Dave laughed. 'No, I wasn't afraid of that.'

'You're fine.'

'So you keep saying.'

'So perhaps it is time you actually listened?'

'Never!' Dave feigned denial and laughed. 'Nah, I trust you, you're, like, a genius of some sort, after all.'

'I beg to differ.' Matthew replied without a hint of self-satisfaction from the compliment. 'In the Old World standards I'm just a novice, stitching up things, cutting off things... It's just that medicine ain't what it used to be.'

'You speak like some ghost from Before.'

'I think I am a bit too good-looking to be a ghost.'

Dave rolled his eyes and chuckled. 'Geniuses.'

'So... How did you guys survive the attack?' Dave asked suddenly.

'With a shitload of luck.' Matthew replied.

'But... we were the ones to get the drop on the mutants and we lost six... and a half. You, as I now hear, were ambushed yourselves and lost only two, with seven in the field.'

'It was a shitload of luck. Tabitha accidentally busted one mutant's flamer, Tycho managed to break the other one's Stealth Boy... And then there was the stand-off at the end...'

'Stand-off?'

'Yeah... We were wounded and lying on our asses at the top of a dune as two mutants advanced from the north and two from the south. We just stood our ground.'

'And you won?'

'No. We died.' Matthew laughed. 'We survived by luck. There were no tactics involved, just four mutants opening fire on us and we five opening fire on the mutants. We simply lucked out and were the last people standing.'

'Sounds more than luck to me... Sounds like serious skill.'

Matthew thought about it for a moment. 'I guess so. I mean, we had a desert ranger in our team, plus Ian and Tabitha are one of the meanest, if not _the_ meanest sons of bitches out there... And Kirren, with her unbreakable spirit; she kept on shooting with wounds in most of her limbs!'

'And you?' Dave asked.

'Me? I'm a doctor. And a subpar sharpshooter in battle. It was all them.'

'Now you're being modest.' The man kept pushing. 'I hear you're very skilled in various areas.'

'You hear wrong. I am a jack of all trades, master of none it seems. And with loads of luck sprinkled on top.'

'Still modest...'

'No, really, I mean it. I should be dead in a ditch by now but the luckiest thing that ever happened to me was that my companions came along. The wasteland would've killed me under normal circumstances but by sticking with them I got out of some impossible situations.'

'Sounds like you care about them a lot.'

'I do. I... Sometimes I downright feel to be unworthy of their companionship. They're gods, and I'm... Matt.'

'I see some redeeming skills in you.' The man smiled.

'Thanks, Dave, that's sweet.' Matthew stood up. 'If you'll excuse me, my dear friend Tabitha wants to force me to hit random things because she loves so much and I'd hate to be late because then I'll be hitting _her_ and failing more than hitting a ton of bricks.'

The man in the bed chuckled. 'Show them hell, then!'

'I'll try. Remember me if I don't come back.' He joked. 'See you!'

Leaving the building Matthew felt absolutely no change in temperature, and it was hot as hell in the desert noon.

'Bastard.' He addressed the Sun not looking directly at it. 'Can't you see these people are defenceless against your rage?'

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-27 05:12 PM

The Sun still had some fight left in her before she descended beneath the cruel sands, but already had she lost all of her influence over the Old Woman's Garden, which now defended within its shadowy embrace the two mercenary lovers sharing a bottle of whisky.

'So it's already planned, huh?' Ian asked. 'A trip to Necropolis.'

Tabitha nodded. 'Matthew said he'll try and finish his job before the caravan spends the night there and leaves. If nothing else, Tycho and he will return on their own forfeiting the return salary.'

'Still, if the two of us don't stick around with the caravan it'll be under-guarded.' Ian noticed, still feeling uncomfortable with Tabitha's urges to help Matthew, like the one in the RobCo facility when she dashed into the offices in search for him in the middle of a disastrous fire-fight.

'We'll see.' She dismissed the subject. 'I think I can arrange some new-bloods to travel with us at a lower salary. I think they can hold their own, and it's the best practice in the world.'

'And then it's off to our star careers in the Hub before retiring to a cosy farm at the edge of the Hub?' Ian asked as he took a big swig.

'I'd very much like that.' Tabitha replied. 'Though I suspect I'm shit at farming.'

'We can always raise cattle, I think you're enough of a primitive trapper to make use of them.'

'Hey, you only say good things about Trapper Town or nothing at all!'

'You're just biased.' Ian waved his hand dismissively. 'Despite all you say you are here in the Hub instead of Trapper Town the Glorious.'

'Um... I was kinda kicked out?'

'Excuses.' Matthew laughed.

'Hey!' Tabitha greeted Keri who limped into the yard. 'Does it still hurt?'

'Which one of the wounds are you referring to?' Keri asked evenly, earning a stifled laugh from the other woman. 'I hate to numb it with morphine, but I'll gladly numb it with some of that hooch , thank you very much.' She said as she snatched the whiskey and took a big gulp.

'You were always on the shady side.' Ian laughed. 'Dad give you any shit after he finished weeping by your bed?'

'He wanted to but couldn't because he agreed to let me go, conscious of the risks. He has no ground to stand on.'

'That'll leave you with some scars, though.' Ian observed.

'They just add character.' Keri dismissed.

'I've found that they make good party talk.' Tabitha opined, getting a giggle out of Keri.

'I'll be the star, then.'

The three enjoyed several minutes in silence.

'You guys leaving in a week?' The Romara girl finally asked.

'I think you know the answer to that.' Ian replied.

'Yeah... Just making sure.' Her voice dropped somewhat. 'You be safe there now, okay? I don't like the place one bit.'

'Come on!' Tabitha laughed. 'Between the two of us, a desert ranger, and the rising star of medicine there's absolutely nothing that could go wrong!'

Ian nodded in agreement and Keri shrugged and took a gulp of the booze. She had a bad feeling, and she never had bad feelings, so this was way too disturbing.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-01-27 11:49 PM

'Giant tarantula hawk wasps?' Matthew asked incredulously. 'Seriously, can't the radiation have chosen something less terrifying to enlarge?'

The Sun was nothing but a memory in the minds of the people in the embrace of the darkening twilight, too fresh to be missed. Alas, wherever she now was she knew that the people will remember her fondly before the night is over, and greet her when she released them from the night's cold hands.

'What's the point?' Harold asked in return. 'Whatever the radiation enlarges... becomes fucking terrifying!'

The vault dweller was enjoying some more of the old ghoul's stories in his house over a dinner of brahmin steaks and some whisky. The dim light of the ghoul's lamp added mystery to the ghoul's words and Matthew found himself once again captivated by them.

'Anyway, you were telling about a ghost?' Matthew reminded him.

'Yeah, right. The Haunted Mountain they called it. Every night a light could be seen at its top, but no one who went to investigate ever returned.'

'And you went there?'

'Sure as lack of rain I did! Went there all by myself.'

'What did you find?'

'So I was going up the mountain when I suddenly see a dead body. And another one. And then another one. So I figure that's where they died, though it was too dark to see form a distance exactly from what. So I think about it, and pick up a stone. I pick it up and throw it at the corpses... and zap!' The ghoul exclaimed, but immediately went into a coughing fit.

'Zap?' Matthew reminded him at the edge of his seat.

'Yes. Zap! A red beam of light and the rock turned into a cloud of dust. Now it was getting dark and I saw the zap come from some bushes. So I sneak up behind the source of the zappin'... and find the ghost of the Haunted Mountain!'

'Who was it?' The vault dweller asked impatiently.

'...A Protectron robot!'

'A Protectron?'

'Y'see, its legs were all messed up and it couldn't walk. It just lied down in the bushes and attacked anything that moved, anything at all, with its lasers. And the worst part, these folk had no warning! The light was invisible from where they came from and I suppose it was off by the time they got in the robot's sights. Tough luck, I guess. Besides, I learnt from folks below that the light was never consistent of when it shined and didn't shine.'

'The mysteries of the world...'

'So here's the first ghost story that comes to mind. You interested in hearin' another one?'

'Yeah! And Harold?'

'Mmmyeah?'

'I believe I forgot to thank you. For rescuing me. Twice.'

'Rescuing you?' The ghoul coughed.

'Yeah. Both times you saved me by telling my friends where I was.'

'Ah, it's nothin'.' The ghoul replied. Something in the way he said it gave Matthew the impression that he was slightly embarrassed. 'Anyway, another ghost story... Have you ever heard of the Blue Monsters that take the shape of ripples in the air as they move?'

Matthew laughed and started seriously wondering about making Harold a member of the city council or something; the ghoul seemed to know about everything.

The Sun hiding in her secret lair started growing impatient at the lack of appreciation.


	16. Collapse

A/N: Fallout ain't mine.

A/N 2: I decided to place Necropolis north-west of the Hub since settlement spacing isn't an issue here. I also decided to change the sewers where the parts of the Necropolis water pump's parts are located in the game and the residence of the dissident ghouls into a metro to avoid the Absurdly Spacious Sewer trope.

* * *

><p>He stood in the wasteland, impassive. She sat on soft grass in a green oasis, looking somewhere else, her face unreadable. He didn't see the oasis, or her, as he was looking the other way. Though he felt like there was something nearby, something important.<p>

Reluctantly, he looked around. The oasis was there before him, the searing wasteland sands miraculously turning into green grass two meters in front of him. He couldn't see it. He felt there as something there, though. Like a shadow.

The oasis took shape slowly in his head. It made him think of things, things he'd buried away. He thought of those things and the more he came up with the more tangible the oasis became. Then he finally saw her. He knew it was her, but he couldn't see her face properly. She had eyes, a nose, and lips, but they simply didn't add up to a face he could remember. They didn't even add up to any face, just an idea of it. But he knew it was her. He knew she was looking away. And he guessed she knew he was here but she chose not to look. That was okay. He felt like he couldn't bear that.

The line where the sand turned into grass. It was visible. It was also impassable, but that could not be seen. He felt that.

He thought he should say something. Maybe try and explain himself. He thought about it for a long time. When nothing came up, he just turned around and walked away. The wasteland disassembled itself and turned into the starry night sky he woke up to.

* * *

><p>Necropolis<p>

2161-02-01 01:41 PM

The ruins of Bakersfield, now known as Necropolis, revealed itself like the Hub did - as a dark yet much bigger spot on the horizon – after a few uneventful days of travelling during which the twitching fear of the Death Claw and the so-called Super Mutants gradually turned into relief and a sense of pride and toughness as neither showed up after that whole showdown. The spot's silhouette soon became clearer and more detailed to reveal the towering skyscrapers of the Pre-war metropolis. And the windows; there were millions of them and when the vault dweller tried to estimate the population of the old city by assuming each window stood for one inhabitant his head started spinning.

The caravan soon entered the dilapidated suburbs of the city where the cheap and hastily constructed buildings stood having largely failed then test of time, unlike the sturdy concrete spires of the Downtown looming ahead, radiating eeriness and the silence of death. The caravan braved the blue prelude of suburban destruction and soon dove into the skin-piercing chill and shadowed emptiness of the hollowed-out giants of human making. Matthew noted the wasteland had already started claiming the mighty bastion of whatever ideals the human race stood for before by blanketing the smaller streets on the sides with a layer of sand. The street the caravan took, though, remained free of the wasteland's choking grasp, a knife piercing into the dark gray skeleton of the once mighty city. The straight road the caravan took, the way the claps of Brahmin hooves echoed in the shade of the giants, and the empty stare of the windows – unfeeling yet vigilant – all these things made Matthew feel uneasy, as if they were desecrating the sacred temple of an invisible yet immensely powerful ominous force.

He saw the first ghoul of Necropolis when he took a glance down a smaller alley to the right. The ghoul, who looked like the victim of a really bad fire, was slowly shuffling through the alley with nothing on him but a pair of old and tattered breeches that were probably once pants and a simple sack with something bulky and heavy inside by the way the poor soul dragged it through the sand. Matthew shuddered against himself.

The caravan, which had come from the south and turned north-east upon entering downtown, was now once again leaving it after cutting though its southeastern corner. The district they were now entering was older and had no building taller than five floors. The vault dweller assumed it was the Old Town of the city by the highly ornamented sturdy dark gray houses. The Old Town was not as eerie as the area they just left not only because it didn't tower over their heads, but also because it was populated by ghouls, who gave the place some semblance of life and an amount of tidiness. Matthew couldn't help but feel like the ghouls here were a bit different from Harold. Where the old trader's skin seemed burned, leathery and molten, the skin of these ghouls looked only burned or absent. These people shuffled around town aimlessly and with barely any clothing to their name. Some ghouls seemed to be passing by with purpose in their determined yet shaky steps and Matthew found it somewhat more disturbing than aimless shambling.

The caravan stopped in an old parking lot in front of a large one-story building and a ghoul soon came from the inside to greet them. He wore an old business suit which was somewhat stained and in some patches seemed so full of dry grime you could literally break the fabric into pieces like thin glass.

'Josh!' The ghoul greeted the portly caravan guard loudly with his raspy voice. 'You old bastard! High time you remembered us freaks!'

'Abe!' The driver laughed heartily. 'You rusty old drunkard! How could I ever forget your ugly face? Got held up in the Hub is all, don't go bitching all over our faces!'

'Well come on in then, you old gambler!' The ghoul laughed as the driver jumped off the cart and greeted the ghoul with a hearty handshake. 'Come on and tell me all about that old skank that kept ya!'

'In a minute!' The driver, Josh, replied. He returned to the cart, drew a sizable bag of caps and paid the guards their wages, which were smaller for the three guards who were just recently so roughly initiated by Tabitha, thanks to whom they were now here. By the time Josh finished counting out the caps and reminded them their wage will be doubled if they return here at 1000 tomorrow and guard the caravan on its way back Abe had retreated to the building and reemerged again a short while later with two beers. Matthew's three-and-a-half companions gathered around him to get to work on helping the vault dweller find the water chip.

'Our best bet is the leader, Set.' Ian suggested. 'He's holed up in some sort of a church up north. There's too much rubble aboveground to navigate around successfully and folks usually use the metro tunnels.

'I heard the same thing from Harold.' Matthew agreed. 'But he also warned me that Set's a prick and a small group of ghouls in some utility tunnels would be at least a bit more reasonable.

Since Set's HQ was two stations north and the ghouls Matt mentioned were said to have holed up en route the party agreed they were worth checking out first. They soon found a metro station and descended into the depths of Necropolis.

* * *

><p>Necropolis<p>

2161-02-01 02:15 PM

The metro station was a mess. Aside from being dark and dusty it was littered with various garbage, suggesting that the townsfolk were here when they died. The upside was that it was cool, which was refreshing at the most vicious hour of the day, though Matthew would have preferred the dry wasteland air to the dust and the reek of the underground despite the comfortable chill.

The station's mezzanine was illuminated by a burning trashcan, which also provided light for the sole ghoul sitting on the floor, sorting through the junk he pulled out of the now empty sacks beside him. He gave the smoothskins the briefest of glances as they walked past him. The mezzanine also provided a view of the ground hall below, the waiting area divided into two by two train tracks, upon one which an old train still stood, a once-mighty beast of steel now fading beyond color and use. The companions regarded it with solemn awe as they passed the small space between it and the wall into the only tunnel that wasn't caved-in.

As they got ahead of the train the companions found some breathing space. They also found that the ghouls had fixed torches into the tunnel's walls fifty meters apart to ease one's journey. As they walked shoulder to shoulder in the twilight Matthew found the tunnel not as repulsive as he thought he would, yet Dogmeat was obviously feeling claustrophobic, regarding each piece of junk on their way with alarm. The tunnel was empty and devoid of life apart from the travelers.

They soon found themselves in another, identical station, climbed up the mezzanine and got to the entry where the door to the administration offices was located. They entered the small room with several cubicles, littered with bedrolls, small makeshift tables and car-battery lights. The resident ghouls, startled by their entry, stopped dead in their tracks and eyed the newcomers with suspicion, afraid to even twitch.

A ghoul finally entered the room and instead of freezing up slowly approached the newcomers, raising his hand in greeting and approaching the most authoritative-looking figure in the company, Tycho.

'Hello there, friends!' The ghoul rasped, his voice sounding like just speaking could tear his vocal chords to shreds. 'Thanks for not shootin'. I am Edward Ellington, the leader of this small group of pariahs. If you don't mind, I'd like to inquire as to your business with us.'

'We're looking for something.' Matthew spoke up taking a step towards the ghoul. 'A water purification system controller chip, which might be located in Vault 12 under this city. We were told you folk would be the ones to talk to instead of Set.'

Edward chuckled at some thought he left unvoiced and spoke up again.

'Damn right we are. Old Set, may the rats bite off his ass slowly, cares only about blood and cash, that rotten tyrant.'

'That's why you're here underground?' Tycho asked.

'Damn right!' The ghoul confirmed, not without pride in his voice. 'We'd rather be sewer rats than servants to a murdering tyrant!' The ghoul stopped for a second to think. 'The thing you seek, though, is a delicate matter. We… Set… uses the vault and its systems to get his water, and we'd be dead without it like him.'

'You live in the ruins of a grand Pre-war city,' Tabitha cut in, 'surely you have other means to get water?'

'We do.' Edward nodded. 'Or at least we used to. There's a pump in the old watershed just up above, but it got busted a couple of weeks ago. There have been several attempts to fix it, but to no avail. Well, except one, a couple of days ago. But I think the Super Mutants busted it again. They hate the noise, you see.'

'Super Mutants?' Matt's eyes went wide. 'They're here as well?'

''As well'? I didn't think anyone would know who they were seeing as how they just showed up recently.'

'Why are they here?' Tycho asked evenly. 'Do you know?'

'They showed up guns blazing just weeks ago. Many of us fell before Set somehow managed to approach them. They said they were looking for Vault 12 and its residents in particular and were furious when he told them we ghouls were the inhabitants. They didn't say or do anything after that, just set up shop in the Watershed. Now they barely let anyone in. And I doubt they got to the vault. The entry is… small.'

'So, if we want the chip,' Matthew concluded, 'we'd have to shoot our way past them, repair the pump, and then go down into the vault?'

'Yeah.' Edward nodded. 'Though this guy, Cory, a ghoul, managed to talk his way past them when he went up there to assess the latest damage. However, if you do that they'll just smash the pump up again.'

'Just going to the vault and taking the chip sounds a lot easier.' Tabitha opined under her breath.

'Out of the question.' Matthew replied sternly. 'What about Set? Won't he be angry if we do that?'

'I think the rotting bastard would be thrilled to see them taking dirt-naps, though I wouldn't ask him for the chip.'

'So we do this the hard way?' The vault dweller asked his companions. Ian and Tycho nodded sternly. Tabitha rolled her eyes and nodded reluctantly seeing she was outnumbered. 'You've got a deal, then.'

A wide smile, resembling a feral grin, flourished upon the ghoul's face. 'Well thank ye kindly, good sir. Cory, our mechanic, went up there looking for parts needed to make repairs after the latest damage but he didn't come back. He met some folks before going missing and told them he was a few minor parts away from success.'

'Then we'll see what happened to him.' Matthew nodded.

'In any case, any way we find him will point us in the right direction.' Tabitha chimed in.

'We'll get the parts then. Where is this watershed?'

'To the north. Lay low once you hit the 'Blades Razors' billboard. It's right up ahead.'

Matthew nodded. 'We'll keep you updated, then.'

'Thank ye, sir. Thank ye very much. And watch out for scorpions!'

The companions emerged into the Old Town with Tabitha questioning whether firing bullets without talking with the leader, Set, was prudent, and the rest disagreeing as they didn't want to side with the ill-reputed overlord. They split up above ground, Ian and Tabitha taking to the west and towards downtown and Matt, Tycho and Dogmeat taking to the east.

* * *

><p>Necropolis<p>

2161-02-01 3:43 PM

The buildings of the old Bakersfield changed from the decorative monochrome of the Old Town into a once quaint and colorful art deco as the ranger, the vault dweller and the mutt took the widest street heading east in search of one small ghoul in a giant metropolis. The upside was, though it might have just been him having adapted to the ever-so-gray wasteland, he found the district colorful and invigorating despite the damage the colors have actually taken with the time. After having recently braved downtown Bakersfield and its metro tunnels this looked like a walk in the park.

'It was the right thing you did back there' Tycho suddenly complimented him after a long silent walk.

'It… It just seemed the natural thing to do.' Matthew attempted a reply, startled.

'Now you're getting the things you want without hurting anyone.' Tycho noted. 'Which is what a merc's life is all about.'

Matthew cracked a small shy smile and paused to put his thoughts in order.

'Even back when I was a vaultie,' he started, looking at the pavement instead of his companion, 'I was the quiet observing type. I was pretty proud of my perception. So I do realize what you're doing, treating me like you're my dad.'

Tycho's eyes snapped up and met Matthew's nervous ones.

'And I…' The young man continued,' I just wanted to say I appreciate it, god knows I need the help… And I'm sorry about what happened with Daren.'

Tycho nodded. 'I understand. But these things don't wash away easily.'

'I know.' The vault dweller's gaze drifted to the sidewalk again. 'And I'm ready to do the best I can to make up for it.'

'That's good.' The ranger nodded again.

The once colorful swings of the children's playground creaked in the small wind. The Sun was shining and the spirits were in a not-unhappy melancholy. Above all, it was peaceful, even though it was practically a graveyard.

'Let's have a break.' Tycho suggested and they sat down on a bench by the road and had a small lunch of whisky and, to Matthew's distaste, iguana. He took it in stride, though.

'How are we going to find that one ghoul in this massive graveyard?' Matt voiced his concern.

'Already on it.' Tycho replied between bites. 'Been keeping my eyes… open for tracks.'

'But… don't we need some sort of a system?'

Tycho shrugged. 'That's as good as it's gonna get with the info we've got.'

Matthew threw a bit of iguana for Dogmeat and the dog swallowed it quickly and greedily. The vault dweller smiled. Dogmeat, as quiet as it was, was a treasured companion. It also looked like it belonged here in this pretty piece of Pre-war world.

Dogmeat's head suddenly perked up and it started looking around the buildings. Then, as if following a faint scent, it wandered off towards one of the ruined houses. Matthew yawned and stretched absent-mindedly reminding himself that he had to be quick about finding the chip, but at the same time unable to shake off the slow, lazy feeling about things which he adopted in this quaint place. He also noted it was probably the first bit of the Old World he'd seen that he didn't want to simply destroy, maybe apart from the Hub, but the 'refurbished' old ruin really looked like a thing of the New World.

'Let's turn north, west, and then south.' Tycho suggested. 'That way we'll return with some light and if Ian and Tabitha found the parts already we'll be able to take care of that other business before nightfall.'

'Yeah, we don't have that much time.' Matthew agreed. 'Though maybe if they've got some lights working in the watershed and turn then on at nightfall we could use that and the darkness to our advantage. They're the ones in a defensible position after all.'

Tycho nodded. 'That could work. We just need some more recon.'

'I… can't believe you're agreeing to do something like that for me. After what happened in that factory…'

'I say we won't get anywhere running away from the problem.' Tycho replied evenly. Besides, we could use some experience if they return to…'

Tycho was suddenly cut off by a burned leathery hand grabbing his throat from behind in a chokehold. Before he could react Matthew was attacked from behind the same way.

The desert ranger reacted to danger instantly by jumping up on his feet and thrashing about in order to shake off the opponent. Alas, the ghoul attacker was too light to shake off and so he had to resort to different measures. Already feeling an insatiable need for more air Tycho thrust his right leg behind the assailant's and then kicked off with his left leg to land on a coincidentally sand-free stretch of pavement right on his assailant. With the sound of ribs breaking and a raspy shout of pain the chokehold lost all its strength. Tycho immediately rolled around and punched the ghoul in the face for good measure before standing up and receiving a weaker version of that punch. Apparently, the two initial attackers had three more friends. His gaze jumped to Matthew who was lying on the ground by the bench after having succeeded to slip under the chokehold and was now trying to protect his face from the angry punches of one of the ghouls. Without a second thought the ranger ran past the opponents and up to the ghoul attacking the vault dweller. The mutant turned his head to see the source of the footsteps and was immediately sent flying by Tycho's right hook. The ranger registered Dogmeat barking somewhere at the back of his mind as he kicked another ghoul in the stomach and helped his companion up.

'Freeze, meatsacks!' A raspy voice suddenly commanded and Matthew suddenly found himself staring down a 10mm pistol with an angry ghoul on the other side. The ghoul had a huge scar on the left side of his face, like a claw mark, and his left eye was missing. The fighting stopped and everything went quiet again, except for Dogmeat's barks, coming from inside of one of the old buildings.

'What do you want from us?' Matthew demanded coldly. Tycho was caught unawares by the strength and harshness of his voice, and, as he saw when he took a look at him, eyes.

'You smoothskins are on our turf.' The armed ghoul started angrily. 'You damned normals, always acting so high and mighty, bringing us ghouls down. Well, maybe I feel like your kind owes us.'

'That's what you say to yourself to avoid the realization that you're nothing but a bastard robbing people at gunpoint?' Matthew asked coldly. The ghoul's eyes flared up in rage.

'Boss!' One of the other ghouls called out before their fuming leader could speak. 'That bastard broke a couple of Terry's ribs!'

'Sons of bitches!' The leader swore, trying to burn the two men with his gaze. Neither man so much as flinched. 'Get him to Betsy! And shut that fucking dog up!'

Two comparatively unhurt ghouls slowly helped the one Tycho crushed under himself stand up while another one headed towards where Dogmeat's barking was coming from.

'Assholes!' The ring leader swore again. 'Messing Terry up like that! I'll make you pay!'

'What did you expect when you attacked us?' Matthew asked coldly. 'That god's going to see you through your righteous activities unharmed? That we'd take pity on you criminal scum and let you beat us to death?'

'You say one more word!' The ghoul threatened, rage almost spilling out of his eyes and mouth like bolts of lightning. Tycho tensed up seeing how enraged the ghoul was and how defiant of that Matthew was.

'You wanna get shot up, you bastard? Huh?' The ghoul resumed. 'I'm gonna open your pretty face up with my gun you sonuvabitch!'

Dogmeat's barking suddenly stopped. Matthew couldn't help but redirect his gaze from the ghoul to the house its voice had been coming from. Did that ghoul just kill it? Suddenly a huge wave of pure rage arose within him and he started feeling the urge to open the ghoul's skull up with his bare hands.

Then Dogmeat ran out of the building and toward him.

'Boss!' A ghoul exclaimed from the doorway, trying to warn the leader. The rage within Matthew took a short recession, suddenly cut short with a bolt as the ghoul aimed his pistol at the mutt and squeezed out two shots.

Before he knew what he was doing the vault dweller grabbed the ghoul's pistol and rammed his left shoulder into the opponent's right, making him fall to the ground and his hand slip off of the gun in the process. The ghoul in the doorway slowly inched his way back into the house.

'Down, boy!' Matthew commanded, his heart returning to its place upon seeing the dog was alright. Dogmeat stopped approaching the ghoul but refused to sit down and quit growling.

'You bastard!' The leader of the leader of the muggers cursed. 'Go on and shoot me already you stuck up piece of shit!'

'Stuck up?' Matthew raised an eyebrow, his raw rage replaced once again by cold and disgust. 'You'll believe just about anything about others even if it's your own fiction before you admit you're nothing more than a common thug. Oh the lengths people go to in order to justify themselves and avoid realizing how rotten they are.'

Matthew suddenly lowered the pistol, removed the clip and threw the empty gun on the sidewalk by the ghoul.

'Get the fuck out of my sight.' The strength and hate in the young man's voice made the ranger shudder.

The ghoul scrambled around frantically to grab his gun and stand up, and then retreated into the small alley from which he came without turning his back on the smoothskins.

Only when the ghoul was out of their sight did Matthew slowly put the clip in his backpack and knelled down beside Dogmeat to scratch it under the ear.

'You okay, boy?' He asked the dog with a faint smile. It replied by trying to lick his face, something Matthew responded to by flinching away holding his breath.

Tycho took a good look at his companion.

'You okay, Matt?'

'Yeah.' He attempted a smile as he stood up, all back to normal. 'My jaw hurts, though.' He looked tired but some of the coldness still remained in place of his other defenses fatigue had shattered.

'Can't be too bad. One of them punched me in the face too. No muscle on those lot.'

'Yeah…' The vault dweller's gaze drifted emptily in a random direction.

'You did well.' Tycho suddenly complimented. It took Matthew two seconds to process that. He frowned in confusion and then looked away slightly as he caught up.

'I was just angry and afraid and that gun wasn't pointed at me…'

'I'm not talking about how you wrestled that gun from that ghoul.' Tycho interrupted. 'Which, by the way, was an idiotic thing to do for someone as unskilled as you…'

'I won, didn't I?' Matthew rolled his eyes in mock irritation.

'I guess. But I was talking about you letting them go. I thought you were going to kill that one by how angry you were.'

'I said I was going to do my best to make up for Daren.' Matthew said shyly. 'And I was just momentarily angry because I was scared for Dogmeat. Anyway, we should go now?'

Tycho nodded and the two continued their search.

'Just momentarily angry?' The ranger repeated the vault dweller's words inside his head. That was an understatement: he looked like a completely different, scary person then. Tycho assessed from Tabitha's retelling of what happened in the Death Claw cave that Matthew had some hidden inner strength that would help him through the worst of times, but what he saw just now couldn't have been that! It wasn't inner strength, it felt more like… he was possessed. All that rage and disgust drilling holes in everything the young man's gaze chanced upon… that was not a good thing.

'At least he didn't start killing people for nothing, even when he was like that.' Tycho concluded. In the end he decided it was about time he had a thorough conversation with Tabitha about all sorts of things concerning Matthew, current matters and already present worries be damned.

They kept traversing through various districts of the town, each more gloomy than the one before it, in silence. They returned to the metro station two hours later, empty-handed.

* * *

><p>Necropolis<p>

2161-02-01 3:55 PM

'So, you're back to bitching, then?' Ian spoke up as Tabitha and he once again approached the eerie downtown.

'Damn right I am!' She confirmed sternly.' I wouldn't even mind marching against the Super Mutants if the odds aren't too bad, but I think that starting a firefight without the leader's say-so and stealing shit from under his nose is a bad form on our part.'

'Since when do you play by the rules?' Ian joked.

'Since the people enforcing the rules are trigger-happy psychopaths.'

Ian looked at her confused.

'I asked around about Necropolis.' Tabitha explained.' Apparently, Set's a power-hungry beast with bite far worse than the bark. Kinda like Decker used to be, only with cruelty and impatience in the open on account of him being the law.'

'Wow.' Ian said, fascinated. His companion and lover frowned.

'Wow? You live right next door from this place, you should be the one telling _me_ all this!'

'I, uh, kinda knew Set was a bastard but never asked around any more about it because then I'd be itching to do something and… That's not my place to.'

'That's… retarded.' Tabitha admitted.

'Hey, I _am_ a smartass weirdo, you know that!'

'Looks like I never came to appreciate how much of a weirdo you are!' She laughed.

Ian rolled his eyes and directed his gaze from her to the alley to his right.

'There!' Ian suddenly announced, pointing at the alley with footprints in the sand.

'They're fresh enough.' He concluded upon inspecting them and followed the trail with his eyes until it ended at the doorway of a rather sizeable office building.

'Not going into some grungy ruin without presents in my hands.' Tabitha stated as she readied her combat shotgun. 'Let's go.'

Entering the office building felt like entering the metro, except for the present alarm in the two of them and the fact that the building was a lot more claustrophobic than the underground: even the reception building was a small utilitarian one-story hall.

'This place is pretty big.' Ian commented with his voice hushed. 'Split up?'

Tabitha nodded and headed off to the south side of the building while Ian took the north.

Tabitha's been up and down the wastes and thus had a sense of danger even she herself couldn't really explain. Walking through the abandoned hallways and cubicles of the office building, her feet dragging through a layer of discarded papers on the floor and her eyes jumping from one abandoned rusty workspace to another, she couldn't help but feel her skin starting to itch. The long-forgotten fragments of the Old World looked like a sleeping beast to her. And, finding herself at such an unfamiliar and sacred place, she was frightened at the possibility of the beast waking up and sinking its teeth into her. She proceeded as quietly as she could, barely stopping herself from jumping up when she spotted a set of recent footprints in the dust that covered the floor. She inched forward following the trail until it ended at the doorway to a broom closet. She slowly put her hand on the door know, took a deep breath, turned and pulled.

Nothing.

It was locked.

The merc cursed quietly, slowly put her rucksack on the floor, produced a set of lockpicks and, after nervously looking up and down the hallway, got to work on the lock.

It was a pretty slow process with her on her toes in this place, but she was eventually rewarded with a silent click. She put back the picks, readied her gun and opened the door.

The scene that greeted her inside was that of a dead ghoul lying among discarded brooms, covered with puncture marks and holding a sack in his dead hand.

Tabitha looked up and down the hallway again, dove into the closet, snatched the bag and opened it back in the hallway.

A small smile crept upon her face. Machinery parts.

Her joy was cut short abruptly by the sound of an SMG burst coming from the direction Ian took off in. Her heart was suddenly in her heels as she jumped up and ran off in that direction. Her swift movements picked up clouds of dust into the air, and if she wasn't sure this place was a sleeping beast before she was now sure that it was, and she woke it up. Except it wasn't the building itself that posed a threat. As Tabitha followed the gunshots she soon found out what was: she found herself in a small room with a hole in the floor leading to the basement the sound was coming from and a radscorpion tail hanging at level with her head.

Almost instinctively she took aim at the beast's face while stepping back. Four even, controlled shots settled the matter and she ran up to the hole to find Ian down in the basement, changing the clip of his gun, thankfully uninjured.

'You okay?' She asked, panting.

'Yeah,' He replied, clearly with his wits scared right out of him. 'Though I don't think that… shit!'

Tabitha turned her head and saw a giant scorpion almost as big as the room entering the space Ian was in though a hole in the wall, several of its smaller kin following it close behind. Ian panicked.

'The door!' Tabitha exclaimed pointing at a wooden door behind him. 'Run to the stairwell, it goes up to the reception area!'

Ian swiftly turned around and dove through the door, closing it behind him. Tabitha only stayed long enough to see the thankfully unlocked door opening before dashing to the reception area. The radscorpions in the meantime either resorted to trying to hack through the door with their tails or went back the way they came, probably intending to go around.

She made record time to the basement door, her pace quickened by the sound of Ian's gun firing again. She dove into the basement without a second thought and found herself in a narrow hallway, a swarm of radscorpions emerging from around the corner at its end, Ian walking backwards towards her firing at the swarm, and two smaller arachnids between him and her.

'Behind you!' Tabitha exclaimed as she ran up to the nearest foe and fed it her buckshot while Ian promptly took care of the other and resumed firing at the swarm. Tabitha ran up to him so they would stand shoulder to shoulder and helped him slow the swarm down. She didn't notice it but as soon as she was by his side a small smile flourished upon his face. She was, however, distracted by the furious mass of chitin and poison descending upon them. For some reason she thought that of all the horrors the old building could've had in store for them radscorpions seemed the most… adequate. She couldn't think of anything scarier than that swarm in this silent, dead relic.

Their way up, though quite hasty, felt like it took ages. When they ascended to the reception area Ian snatched Tabitha's .44 and motioned for her to run for it. While the swarm was possible to slow down bottle-necked in the basement as soon as that mass spread out in the reception area no amount of bullets was going to do them any good.

The two caravan guards dove into the street like the devil himself was on their tail. The feeling of sunlight on their skin felt like a gift from the divines as they knew the nocturnal creatures were unlikely to pursue them in broad daylight. Granted, a few of them did follow the companions, but the companions, upon having slowed down some distance away from the building, quickly saw to the end of that.

Only halfway back to the metro station did Ian stop looking behind his shoulder nervously and took a deep breath.

'You came for me!' He said with a grin on his face. 'Thanks!'

'Of course.' Tabitha replied with a frown suggesting she was concerned about his mental state.

'Too bad we couldn't find anything.' Ian said with a sigh. 'Mind if I take a break before we move on?'

'No need.' Tabitha grinned, jingling the bag in her hand.

'Is that…'

Tabitha nodded and in response Ian jumped up on her with an idiotic smile and embraced her tightly. She just stood there dumbfounded. Stress does strange things to people, she concluded.

* * *

><p>Necropolis<p>

2161-02-01 6:39 PM

The sight of a dead ghoul lying in a pool of his own dark blood on the floor was the sight that greeted them upon their return back to the metro station. Tycho drew his assault rifle. Matthew started considering frantically what could've happened. Has Set caught wind of their activities and come after Edward and his kin?

There were dead bodies of ghouls on the floor in the administration office. Other, living ghouls were also present in the room. Tycho tensed up, but his comrade motioned him to stand down. He remembered the living ghouls to be Edward's folk.

'What the hell happened here?' Tycho asked aloud, directing his question to no one in particular.

'Jules happened.' Came a reply from the doorway. Both Tycho and Matthew turned around and saw Edward, the source of the answer, entering the room.

'Jules?' Tycho inquired.

'An outlaw.' Edward explained. 'Lives to the east, usually robs the scavs that go there… not like there's much left there.'

Matthew's gaze started drifting from one dead body on the floor to another.

'How did this happen?' Tycho inquired further.

Edward was about to answer when Ian and Tabitha emerged from the same room, carrying a dead body topside. Edward regarded their burden with sadness and Tycho regarded the two mercs with a somber nod.

'He came with his freaks to trade for bullets for his gun and disagreed over the price.' Edward explained once they were gone. 'I didn't even know he was here until the bullets started flying.'

'He had no bullets for his ten-mill.' Another ghoul explained, a woman in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, sitting on an ancient chair nearby and staring at her hands in shock. 'He wanted me to put it 'on his tab'. I told him outlaws don't get no tabs with me and he started shouting about how bad the business had gotten and how he couldn't go on without some 'investments'. I told him I didn't care. Anyway, we started arguing and the next thing I know he socks me in the mouth and one of his goons puts a crowbar in my guns locker.'

'Then the bullets started flying' Edward continued. 'We're all packing down here because we're enemies of Set, but still, if it wasn't for your friends we'd be in a tough spot.'

Further conversation was not heard by Matthew. His gaze kept jumping from one dead body to another until one of them caught it. There was something familiar about it. He concentrated and a second later he placed it, his guts wrenching at the realization. The ghoul had a nasty scar on the left side of his face, and his left eye was missing.

'Five of us died.' Were the words, uttered by Edward that finally pierced his shell of shock. 'Five died before those two got them all.'

'We let him go.' Matthew murmured.

'Come again?' Tycho leaned in.

Matt pointed at Jules's body. 'He attacked us today on the east side.'

Tycho took a good look at the corpse and soon his eyebrows shot up in recognition.

While the old ranger explained to the confused ghoul what that was about Matthew's mind once again drifted away from the conversation and to the bodies on the floor. 'Five innocents dead' was the only thing he could think of.

* * *

><p>Necropolis<p>

2161-02-01 8:14 PM

The twilight of the approaching night already hung above their heads as the four-an-a-half companions quietly filed out of the station and sat down on the benches next to its entry, Tycho and Tabitha producing a cigarette each and Ian and Matthew producing a bottle of whiskey each. So they sat quietly, each in their own thoughts.

Edward had been quite understanding when he heard the story of their encounter with Jules. He ensured the newcomers that that situation was a bomb ready explode as it was and it's always best to ask questions before shooting, which was what they did. To Matthew those words, and especially the nature of them, being spoken as if to comfort him and the ranger, seemed almost too much. All he knew was that innocent people died and he could've prevented it. Probably. If he would've had the heart to shoot without knowing for sure what would happen.

Tycho saw Matthew was troubled – he assumed he would be the moment he realized just what happened – and wanted to comfort him. Alas, he found it somewhat hard to do with other people around.

'Nothing we could've done.' The ranger finally stated with a sigh, hoping no one would start arguing with that.

He was wrong.

'You could've killed the thieving bastards, you know.' Tabitha replied.

It took a few seconds for Tycho to shake off the surprise and reply. 'You mean start shooting before we even know what we're doing?'

'Why the hell are you making it sound so complicated?' Tabitha frowned. 'A thieving bastard with a gun is a thieving bastard with a gun, what, you need God's formal approval before you push the trigger?'

The ranger winced. That's not something Matt needs to hear right now.

'So you just walk around shooting anything that looks like trouble?'

'That _proves_ to be trouble.' Tabitha corrected. 'Like, I don't know, people who pull guns on you?'

Ian took a look at the vault dweller, staring emptily into the pavement, his bottle of booze forgotten in his hand. As mad as he was at him a few days ago he couldn't help but sympathize with him. He thought Tabitha was right, though.

'Look,' the feisty merc continued, 'unless we deal with scum like that there's no way we can live properly ourselves, not with them totting their guns. So we shoot them. Not lock them up and work hard to keep them fed and cozy – shoot them between the eyes.'

'She's right.' Matthew suddenly said silently, his eyes still on the pavement. 'You shoot them. Or you don't. You do what you feel you could live with. That's why civilized places have citizens and policemen.' He stood up. 'I'll head on over to the watershed, see if there's a way I can slip in.'

'Slip in and repair a generator undetected?' Tabitha laughed. 'And you don't see anything wrong with that plan?'

'I'll do what I can using whatever means at my disposal.' He replied evenly.

'Well, we three are at your disposal, you crackpot!'

Matthew seemed reluctant to acknowledge that.

'You've helped me enough already.' He started slowly. 'I just killed five innocent people and am about to march off against Super Mutants…'

'And you'll have to live with that.' Tabitha stood up. 'But I refuse to have to live with abandoning a friend. I'm coming with you.'

Ian smiled. No longer had Tabitha's seemingly strange inclination to help Matthew seem like a sign of divided affection. She came to save him as well because that's the sort of person she is. And he himself has been a very paranoid person to think otherwise. He loved her and she loved him. Birds were singing, skies were blue. He stood up.

'I never leave a job half-finished. 'He smiled. 'I'm coming with you.'

Matthew looked at Ian, the turmoil of emotion within him stopping words from forming.

'You're a good lad.' Tycho suddenly spoke up. 'And helping these ghouls is something I couldn't pass on doing.'

The vault dweller's gaze drifted from one of his companions to another, his head filled with so much humility and appreciation he didn't know how to express it.

'Thanks.' He said and smiled, the word feeling weak and non-descriptive in the air of what just happened.

* * *

><p>Necropolis<p>

2161-02-01 7:22 PM

They left Dogmeat with the ghouls and set off. It was already dark when they slowly approached the Watershed and circled around it in a distance to familiarize themselves with it. The building was made of two parts: the taller main building spawning from east to west with the main entry on the southern side. Attached to its eastern side was a shorter minor building spawning from north to south, a parking lot in the southwestern corner of the structure. On its western wall was the back entry. The Super-Mutants have indeed turned some lights on for the evening. Peeking into the building from afar they counted four Super-Mutants inside, their large-caliber weapons placed idly against the walls. They concluded that a stealthy attack with as much damage as possible would be the way to go.

Tabitha, her combat shotgun in hand, took position just by the closed main door to the shed while Ian with his 10mm SMG placed himself by the smaller entry. Tycho and Matt stood at the parking lot with their rifles, ready to cover Ian and Tabitha respectively. The plan was to draw fire to the ranger and the vault dweller hiding in the distance and darkness and hopefully to draw the Super Mutants out of the building to be shot by the high-power short-ranged guns of the caravan guards. It wasn't in Tycho's nature or Matthew's current disposition to complain about the dangerous roles. Tabitha peeked inside through the window and aimed her gun at one of the beasts while Matthew lined his hunting rifle with the head of another mutant sitting on the ground doing nothing. It was the time to spring the trap and Matthew chased any emotion but his determination to finish the task before he squeezed the trigger, the crack of the shot echoed by the rip of Tabitha's shotgun. So it began.

Tabitha quickly jumped to the other side of the door to avoid immediate detection while Matthew lined up his rifle to the door, his knees itching to launch him to either side at the first hint of trouble. Tabitha clenched her teeth when she heard the mutants pick up their weapons, itching to blast them apart, while Ian listened in intensely to the footsteps of a hulking mutant approaching the door inside. If all was well, there were only two of them left to contend with.

The door next to Tabitha flew open and a mutant with a light assault rifle sprayed a salve of leaden death towards the two men in the parking lot. They dove out of the way to save their lives. As soon as the salve stopped for a moment Tabitha jumped up, pushed her rifle into the doorway and unloaded three shells to the mutant's face point blank. At the same time the door beside Ian flew open and Tycho, who had just gotten his bearings, released two short bursts at the exiting mutant, careful not to hit the caravan guard who was standing two meters away from the door just in case. The ranger's salves staggered the giant just enough for Ian to run up to him and unload at his face. Tabitha peered into the room and checked to see that the two mutants, the victims of the first shots, were dead, then checked the other rooms for more hostiles.

'Clear!' She announced loudly when she stepped out, then frowned, seeing Matthew sitting on the ground in the parking lot fiddling around his leg and Tycho standing over him with a concerned expression. Ian was doing a sweep of the building.

'Was he hit?' Tabitha asked as she approached them.

'Grazed.' Matthew corrected. His rifle lay on the ground by his side while he was disinfecting the wound.

'Must hurt like a bitch from that gun.'

'Yeah. Bleeds like a bitch.'

Ian stepped out of the watershed.

'Matt, you alright?'

'Peachy.' Matthew forced a smile.

Matthew's head snapped up as his peripheral vision detected some movement. He looked around the walls of the watershed but there was no one there.

'Think I saw something!' Ian suddenly said, stopping. Matthew reached for his rifle.

An orb of green suddenly materialized at the northern doorway and before anyone could react it thrust itself forward, crossed the parking lot diagonally, and connected with Ian's solar plexus, burning a hole in the man's torso.

Time slowed down. The vault dweller heard Tabitha scream, but it seemed distant and muffled. Ian's eyes were wide open in shock. His body stood upright for a few seconds but it seemed more like he was a puppet hanging on strings. Mist slowly crawled into those eyes and Ian's eyelids started descending. The moment they reached his irises the strings seemed to snap and he collapsed.

The roar of Tabitha's shotgun shook Matthew from his stupor. He found his rifle in his hands and the needle and thread he intended to close the wound with on the ground. Tabitha was shouting like insane, running towards the door the orb materialized in and peppering the building with shells randomly.

'Come out, you fucking bastard!' He heard her shout hysterically.

There it was! Just when a part of Tabitha's buckshot flew into the watershed through the door he saw the air inside shimmer. He realized it must've been one of those invisible mutants staggering from the shot. He also realized Tabitha was now dashing blindly towards an invisible mutant with a high power energy weapon.

Aiming his rifle to the door Matt realized the table inside the room seemed twisted, distorted. That was probably where the mutant stood.

'Matthew!' He heard Tycho exclaim as he lined up his shot to what he assumed would be the mutant's head, the trajectory of the bullet to be fired going centimeters from Tabitha's right ear.

'Don't shoot when there's a friendly in your line of fire.' Tycho's previous instruction echoed in his head. Alas, right now, either he breaks that rule or the mutant turns Tabitha's torso into a smoking hole.

The crack of the rifle going off sounded through the ruins. Tabitha fell on her knees and cupped her head. She bent over and her forehead touched the cool asphalt.

Matthew's body instantly went cold.

'No.' The words formed in his head 'No, no, no, no, no, god no!'

The table inside collapsed. The mutant's cloaking device powered off and its body, with a bullet hole in its left eye, became visible. Tycho ran up to Tabitha and only then did the vault dweller realize she was alive, sobbing on the pavement.

A wave of mixed relief washed through Matthew's body. He suddenly felt tired to the brink of passing out.

She was alive. Matthew turned his head. Ian was dead. For him. He felt like throwing up. Tycho kneeled by Tabitha and hugged her, the woman shaking violently and crying as the ranger looked around for further signs of trouble.

The vault dweller felt empty, like Ian getting… killed… and that shot washed everything inside him away like a giant torrent. He sat around doing nothing, staring blindly at the dead body of his friend.

'My leg.' A thought finally formed inside his head. He stared into the wound. 'My leg. Wounded.' Thoughts came to him with effort. 'Needs stitching up. Needle and thread. Need needle and thread.' The items were lying on the ground beside him. 'On the ground. Dirty. If I do this… with dirty tools… it could get… it could get…' Matthew labored to finish the thought. 'Could get… infected. Sterile. Sterilization? Sterilize! Need… to sterilize.'

His hands shaking violently he went on disinfecting the tools. He felt like if something happened, if something made him feel anything, he would cave in. Like he was a dam holding tremendous amounts of water in one place and that dam was about to collapse, setting free a gargantuan torrent that would destroy anything in its path. Destroy him. He concentrated on his breathing. On the cool of the bottle of the disinfectant in his hand. On how the muscles in his hand tensed up slightly as he screwed the cap back on. On anything but what happened.

'Matthew?' Tycho's voice made his hand shake as he looked up and saw him standing in front of him, his hand around Tabitha's shoulders. Her mouth was covered by her hand and her eyes were closed shut, her cheeks wet from tears. He directed his gaze again at his wound halfway through sewing up.

'I just need to…' His voice broke, the dam tensing up as if it was about to collapse. He bit down his knuckle. Concentrate. 'I need to… I need to finish… stitching up… my leg.'

Tycho nodded, reading the situation perfectly.

Tabitha moaned. She was looking at Ian. Tycho softly turned her face away from that.

'Tabitha! Look at me! We're going back down, okay? Back to Edward…'

'Ian…' She whispered and turned her head to him, but Tycho stopped her and turned her face back to him again.

'I'll take care of Ian.'

'Don't bury him without…' She ran out of breath and closed her eyes. More tears. Matthew's hands were shaking so violently he gave up trying to finish his work and just sat with his eyes closed.

'I won't.' The ranger nodded, comforting. 'I won't.'

'You okay, Matt?' He asked.

He nodded slowly. 'Don't worry, I'll catch up.'

'Hey!'

Matthew looked up at him.

'You come back there safe, you hear?'

Matthew nodded without conviction. The two slowly left.

Seemingly a couple of days later his wound was sewn up and dressed and his tools were back in the kit, the kit back in the backpack. He slowly looked at Ian. Ian's body. He slowly stood up and hobbled up to him. He could hardly put any weight on that right leg but he made do without. He kneeled down beside him. The dam shifted, the seams bending outward. 'Fuck it.' He thought. If that's what it takes to never again have to live with this…

'I'm sorry.' He said, his breath becoming shaky. 'I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I'm sorry you met me. I'm sorry…. I ever crawled out of the vault.'

Now that he wanted his despair to wash him away the dam somehow managed to remain intact. A part of him didn't want to leave Ian here, another, much greater part, wanted him to run away as far as possible until everything was devoured by the horizon. He picked up the sack with the parts from Ian and stood up. His need to stay was an almost tangible force keeping his feet glued to the asphalt

'I thought I could make up for what I did to Daren.' Matthew said slowly to the dead man. 'But I cannot make up for what I've done to you. And now I see I cannot ever make it up for killing any man. If that's something that will help you pass on easily I give it to you eagerly.'

A much more powerful part managed to drag him away violently.

'My leg hurts.' Matthew thought, concentrating on anything that wasn't death or mourning. 'The parts are heavy. The dead mutants. It stinks inside. My leg hurts.'

* * *

><p>Necropolis<p>

2161-02-01 11:49 PM

Limping slowly around the watershed Matthew managed to bring a few car battery lights to illuminate the machinery and pulled the lever to disconnect the power from it. He then unscrewed the dented cover and took a look inside. Some parts were broken and some were knocked out by the blows. He got to work on the puzzle and soon saw that all the parts on the floor were almost identical to all the damaged parts inside. He removed the damaged parts and replaced them with the new, scavenged ones, though he had to do some jury rigging. He was soon done. He pulled the lever back on and the machine started up slowly. He stood there a minute making sure the machine won't blow up due to bad repairs and then proceeded to the south side of the building where the vault was, according to Edward. He found a trapdoor and descended into a steel-wall cellar.

The lights were off below and Matthew proceeded slowly with a flashlight and his 10mm pistol Even though trying to accomplish his mission wasn't often on his mind, diving into the old vault so close to the salvation of his home felt like something of a grand moment. His thoughts drifted to Ian's body lying on the ground above and that feeling plummeted. 'Please don't think about that, for the love of god…'His limping became more frantic.

He soon entered Vault 12 through the giant cog-shaped door. The vault looked to be in the same shape as Vault 12 only the stench was a lot worse. He didn't react to that.

A ghoul came into view and Matt stopped abruptly. This ghoul was not like the others: he was completely naked and his skin was a transparent web of scar tissue under which the whitened muscles emitted a sickly pale light.

'Hello?'

The ghoul turned his head at Matthew, made a quiet gurgling noise and started towards the vault dweller, his arms reaching out. Matthew aimed his gun at the ghoul's head.

'Stop!'

Nothing.

'Stop or I'll shoot!'

Nothing.

'You're one of the mindless ones, aren't you?'

He pulled the trigger. The ghoul collapsed on the floor, pale blood with a green tint to it started seeping from the wound.

'If he's that irradiated then of course he's gone insane.' Matthew thought as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button labeled '10'. 'Maybe I should've felt something shooting that poor soul. I wonder what Tycho would say. Ian…' He suddenly shook his head. None of that, please, no!'

He stepped out of the elevator in the deepest depths of Vault 12. There were a few still working emergency lights in the level and despite that his eyes failed to miss the faint glow inside the control room, tipping him off to the presence of more of those glowing ghouls. He walked in with his pistol leveled.

A wastelander girl lay dead on the floor on her stomach, her sun-bleached black hair spread around her like a corpse bag. He noticed several bite marks on her hands, obviously thanks to the three glowing ghouls standing around her. He aimed coldly and shot three bullets. All headshots. 'If they prove to be hostile…' He remembered Tabitha's words, thoughts of moral ambiguity replaced with anger.

'Almost there!'

He limped to the vault's mainframe and tried to disconnect the water system from the power grid. Alas, that action required a password. Matthew didn't know it and his computer skills weren't decent enough to attempt a hack. In the end he resorted to opening up the mainframe and short circuiting it with some water. The lights went out. From school he knew the mainframe was impossible to destroy that way and would power back on in a minute. He used that time to come up to the water systems console with a flashlight between his teeth, unscrew the cover, and remove the controller chip.

It was about the size of his palm and holding it in his hand wasn't as exciting or uplifting as he thought it would be. All he could think of was the people he was going to leave when he comes back home. About what this cost. Ian. About how even though he'll return home, protected from all that happened by thick steel walls, he will never be able to get back to his old life. And that despite all the daydreams about mercenary life after all this he only wanted to return to the hole he called home and never go back. Maybe he should come back, but he most probably won't. The dam retreated from the brink of collapse and stood misshapen, the twisted form adjusting to the pressure of the water and remaining intact. He stood up slowly feeling wrung dry.

'You can chose what you do.' He told himself. 'You can choose to not stay if you wish.'

He closed his eyes.

'I'll sleep on it.' He concluded and turned around. Then suddenly stopped dead mid-step upon seeing that on the floor.

The girl on the floor. On a finger of her right hand…

The mainframe blinked and within seconds the lights were back on. The girl had her left ear to the ground. Matthew slowly knelt down and removed the hair from her face.

On a finger of her right hand… a small phosphorus ring.

'Evelyn.' His voice was shaking.

The dam collapsed with explosive force and the cold, strong waters spilled out in a giant destructive torrent.


	17. Delta

A/N: I suppose you've noticed, but I've changed up a couple of chapters before posting this, starting with Crossroads. Barely anything changed plot-wise but the characters themselves and their development has changed so don't go telling me how everyone's suddenly OOC. ;)

A/N 2: I'm going to follow the storyline of Fallout quite loosely from this point so... yeah. Just so you'd know.

* * *

><p>'...but it's not Alpha and Omega walking along. There's just one figure there, and it's neither of those two. It's change. Nothing ever begins and nothing ever ends, only changes. You can abandon your old life and call it Omega, then start a new one and call it Alpha. But your life won't have ended and started up again because you did it, or tried to do it.'<p>

He took a breath before continuing and noticed he had the rapt attention of his two comrades. They were actually listening to his ramblings? Well then, they might just be as totally fucking crazy as he is.

* * *

><p>Outside Necropolis<p>

2161-02-02 11:47 AM

Time? Some of it has gone by, sure, but who cares how much? He was limping off into the wasteland. He'd spent hours limping through the ruins of Bakersfield and now he was almost home-free, in the wasteland. Wind was lazily blowing through the dessert, searing with the afternoon's heat, as if nothing happened. He stopped.

Behind him lay the ruins of Bakersfield, a part of his life here in the surface world. The place where Ian died. The place where Tabitha and Tycho were right now. The place where Evelyn died...

That was, quite frankly, the last blow – finding her dead in the depths of Vault 12. He's been indecisive up to this point: on one hand, he loved the surface world and wanted to remain here, but then again he wasn't meant for it and it hurt. He was still doubtful about the whole never coming back thing, but with that foray into Vault 12 it was decided. He cannot remain here. Hell, he can barely remain standing. He just wanted to go back home, curl up to a ball under a warm blanket and sleep the rest of his life through.

Only he couldn't. He would always be haunted by the people he killed, the guilty and the innocent alike. He would always be haunted by his betrayal, whether or not Evelyn was still alive. And finally, when he saw her down there, lying dead on the floor, he realized that was the last of it. He had no more connection to the vault. Even if he was a killer and a traitor being back home would still have a semblance of his old life, but with Evelyn dead there was simply no one else he'd care about. Even if she lived and he'd hurt her, made her furious at him, it would still be something, but now… He was just dangling in space. Neither up here nor down here. There is nowhere he belongs now.

He took a deep breath. The water chip was in his backpack, wrapped securely in a huge lump of rags. If he just dragged himself back home, back to the vault, all that he had to do would be done, and he would be free to choose what to do from that point.

'Matt!'

How the hell did she find him?

'Matt!' She ran up to him, nearly breathless, from the city. He'd just left the city after finding the chip without saying a word to them. Guess they would be… worried? That sounds rational, in a way. Then again, it didn't seem rational at all to him.

'Don't tell me you're gonna go home alone!' She said, breathing heavily. He just stood there with his head cast down, his back to her and the Necropolis.

'I can't… I… I just can't…'

She approached him, turned him around, and took his hand in hers. She looked tired, as if she hadn't slept in a long while, but still carried herself with the usual Tabitha Bleu energy. She should look angry, though, he thought. At him.

'It's my fault.' He said, still looking down. 'I…'

'Don't say that! Don't you say that! He went there because he wanted to! We all did! That was _his_ choice!;

'I should've never left the vault. Or died when I did.'

'Don't talk like that!' Now she was really getting angry.

He looked her in the eye. 'I'm sorry, Tabitha. For everything.'

'No. You've nothing to be sorry for.' She sternly. He realized she didn't seem . Sad now at all, maybe just slightly tired.

He cast his eyes down.

'Are you coming back?' She asked. Matthew swallowed, his eyes now fixed firmly on the sand, as if it was his anchor to reality. 'Please say you're coming back.'

They fell silent. A small gust of wind blew a small cloud of sand over their legs. The desert stood silent, observing.

'I won't.' He looked up to her again, something he obviously had to put much effort into. But he had to. 'I'm a fucking bastard and I won't. I know I should because I owe you and if I had any balls I would but… But once I come back there I won't want to. I won't be able to come back to this!'

'I understand.' She said quietly. 'I can't make you stay. You don't owe us… I'm sad to see you go.'

'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for…'

'Shut up.' She said softly. 'Shut up and get your head on straight. Let's go see… Ian off and then we'll take you back home. After all you've done to get that thing you can't just risk everything by going off alone.'

He nodded slowly. That sounded logical. 'Okay.'

* * *

><p>Outside Necropolis<p>

2161-02-02 12:31 PM

He was smoking a cigarette when he saw them approach. An older caravan guard saw them too and frowned, Fergus was his name, if Tycho could recall correctly. Fergus was something of a friend to Ian and thought the worst of the vault dweller, could be that he knew exactly what part Matthew played in the whole Decker mess, but even if he did he, curiously, kept it to himself. From the moment Tycho approached the caravan that morning just before 1000 and broke the news to them that man has been loudly mumbling about what an awful person Matt was. The driver, Josh, took Matthew's side, saying he was a good man, only a bit green. The ranger was glad to hear that.

Ian's body was wrapped into several scavenged tattered sheets and lain by the grave, over a meter deep. The spot was outside of Necropolis, on a dune. A struggling tree stood beside the hole. The best gravestone a man could wish for. The ranger kept smoking a cigarette as they approached. A few others were too. None of them mumbled about leaving late that day. Good, Tycho thought. Fergus started mumbling something to the three new-bloods. Josh told him to stuff it before he stuffed his sawed-off up his ass. The man simmered down. Good.

He cast the butt of the cigarette to the ground when they walked up. Dogmeat ran up to Matthew and nudged him playfully. The man didn't respond. Tabitha nodded to Tycho. He nodded back, He considered asking Matthew if he was okay. Then he thought that would be dumb. Then he thought they were all here already. Good.

They put Ian softly into the hole. Josh stepped up at the head of the grave and cleared his throat.

'Ian here was a good man, plain and simple, in all meanings. He was honest. He strived to do good. And he was as good at his job as he was as a person. He died here doing what he was all about: helping people. He died well. Every good man deserves that. That'll be all.'

Matthew's gaze shifted from the pit to Tabitha. She stood there with visible signs of fatigue , but her face was emotionless. Void. Matthew felt the same.

'Will Ian's killer say nothing?' Fergus asked aloud. Tycho's shoulders squared up and his fingers clenched into fists. Matthew failed to miss that.

'There aren't any words that could be said. Not ones that would do him justice and and any man who says different does not appreciate the gravity of this.'

Josh nodded to himself.

'Still, you can't just say nothing!' The man persisted.

'We can but try.'

'Then try.'

'For whom? For you? No, I don't think so. For Ian? Well if you knew the man you'd know he already knows it all and when it comes to me, he'd heard it all from my mouth too. I shall not disgrace him by saying something I don't mean right now.'

The man rolled his eyes but said nothing and half of the people present, Tycho and Josh included, were staring daggers at him.

Another soft breeze rolled through the dune, giving the mourners a momentary cool break before they covered their fallen friend with soil. Tabitha didn't cry or say anything. When Tycho put his hand on her shoulder as a sign for them to move on she simply turned around and walked away after giving him a quick nod. The short moment their eyes met he saw within them sadness, grief, sorrow. She was like a broken glass figurine. Tycho nodded. Good. She'd been so impassive the last day, just staring into the wall saying nothing he was afraid she was in deep shock, one that leaves people scarred for life. It wasn't that good that she was now sad and broken, but at least she was still here. She was still living and feeling everything fine. That's why in time she will heal. Tycho nodded to himself again. Good. They'll live on. There was at least that in all of this sad business.

Things were changing, after all, and to a degree, the transition would play an important role in shaping the future, so he had to make sure it went by as smoothly as possible.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-02-07 09:49 AM

She hugged him tight before he left, Tycho and Dogmeat waiting a ways ahead.

'If you should decide to come back up here...'

'Yeah.'

She hugged him tightly before hesitantly letting him go.

'Goodbye, Tabitha.'

She watched them get swallowed by the horizon and knew this was the turning point. Either she wasn't going to see him again, or when she would they will have been both be changed beyond recognition.

'All alone now,' she sighed, 'a stranger inn a barely familiar place. The end of my journey and the start of a new life here... A new start? Not with all that luggage.'

She turned around and walked back into the city.

'What the fuck am I supposed to do now?'

* * *

><p>His father was the only person he ever had and he never saw much of him. He never really understood what his job was, only that it had something to do with computers, though that much could've been guessed by the way he treated his child.<p>

Elliott Miles, a widower, had indepth theoretical knowledge of all the social things but little skill in actually realizing them. For example, he saw his child as an instance of the entity 'son' and did his best to make sure his attribute values didn't drop below suboptimal levels. He also did his best to understand his son's relationships with other entities but that was a bit harder to both interpret and to steer the optimal way. In the end, Steven Miles ended up practically growing up on his own, for better or worse.

'Steven,' his father said, 'there's a solution to every situation, you just need to analyse it, account for all the factors, and draw the most rational conclusion.'

It was the only advise his father had ever given to him and he took it to heart when he started his Vault 13 Security Officer Training. Before anyone knew he was out there in the hallways, a tall and slender blonde with cropped hair and a stubble, his face, constantly forming a pleasant-looking expression hidden under his visor and his hand always thrusting his baton in the most optimal trajectory to the offenders' kidneys no matter how well they tried to defend themselves. And he always kept quiet. In anything resembling a social occasion he would just sit alone and quiet, with that look on his face as if he was looking at something really pleasant, like a wide green pasture, or a majestic waterfall. The creepy thing was, that expression seemed permanent, no matter what the situation was and no matter what he was actually looking at. Watching a disgusting dirty toilet, a nice painting, or a person writhing in pain from another successful hit to the kidneys, he always maintained that cryptic, creepily pleasant look. He was as enthralling as he was scary to most women, but still, in the end, he was a loner, without a real friend in the entire vault. Though there were people he generally liked, like that physician in-training.

One day, a man forced himself on a woman. One thing led to another and the man ended up taking a tumble down the steel stairs of the vault, with Steven at the top of the flight, looking as pleasant as ever. The woman thanked him and the man broke his leg, and Steven's father, after a chat from the Overseer, suggested his son went to see the man in the hospital, the cause of it lost upon both men. He did go there, though. The man spit him in the face because he would never walk without a limp again. That's when the young physician unceremoniously drew a syringe and sedated the man.

'Shits like you don't get to spit in the faces of decent men.' The man, Matthew, said before the offender passed out.

The two of them went for a drink: stolen medicinal spirit flavoured with god knows what by the aspiring physician, not bad stuff by the taste. They sat for an hour and exchanged maybe a hundred words between both of them. When Steve came back home and had a similar dinner with his father he realized that was the one social occasion he felt comfortable in. That was the closest he'd ever been to having a friend.

The man who took the tumble, however, had way better friends who started causing fusses. Fights kept breaking out and kidneys kept being smacked around him until one day, right after his twenty-third birthday, Steven was summoned to the Overseer's office.

* * *

><p>Mount Whitney<p>

2161-02-22 10:49 AM

'I'm sure I'll manage.' Matthew smiled at the start of the small, almost invisible mountain path, Dogmeat and Tycho offering to travel with him to the vault's entrance. It's not that he didn't like their company or felt uncomfortable showing them the location of his vault: he just needed some time to think before returning back home. He needed to walk the rest of the road alone and see what it feels like to have no one to attach himself to, and maybe then he would be able to decide what to do next.

'If you should decide to come back up here...'

'I know.' Matthew smiled and shook the ranger's hand firmly. The older man had to physically refrain Dogmeat from following its master into the mountains.

It was funny how of all places he'd spent a lot more time in the trail leading to Vault 13 was the place Matthew could remember the best. One one hand, he felt like he had intimate knowledge of every rock and withering plant along the road, but on the other hand, having seen what he'd seen and learnt what he'd learnt they all seemed a bit different, like old friends you once knew everything about but haven't seen in years, during which they'd changed: not drastically, only like stories brought to their natural conclusion.

He smiled at the mouth of the cave, remembering the nausea he felt when he was first here. This time around the mountain air seemed fresh and the world... It had gotten under his skin and he was almost sure he didn't want to forfeit being here. But he had to press on, to finish his quest, and see how things are going to look at the end of this long road.

He punched in the code to the console and the giant gear-shaped door finally moved out of his path twenty minutes later, in just the time Jacoren needed to come there from his office. The Overseer looked pale and insomniac, and his face lit up with hope when he saw the young physician.

'Did you get it?' He asked, his heart refusing to take another beat until the question was answered.

Matthew nodded and thus became the only person in the vault who had seen Overseer Jacoren honest-to-god grinning.

The G.O.A.T. was over and Mister Clemens, the teacher, gave his young apprentice Sophia the honour to evaluate them, hovering above her shoulder as she spelled the fates of the long line of students before the desk. She was more than uncomfortable with it.

Some youngsters jumped up in joy upon hearing the verdict, some frowned, some fought back tears and some just shrugged. Honestly, she hated seeing every reaction save the last one, the rarest reaction of them all. The thing that really got to her was how no matter how the tested ended up for them, most of these young people would take the result and etch it into their ID, their perception of themselves. It would be absolute, it would be life-defining. She had to smile and congratulate or comfort while really wanting only to shake these kids into seeing things clearly.

Molly was the most insightful girl in the class and Sophia was glad to see her come into the classroom an hour after the last of the test results were in and she was chained to the table alone doing the associated paperwork.

'I thought about this test,' the young girl started evenly, 'and I must say it makes no sense.'

The teacher smiled. 'Well, I haven't officially declared your results, I suppose I can change it.'

'I don't care about it.' She shook her head. 'I just wanted to know how come you people think this test is going to determine the rest of my life correctly, it being as brief as it is.'

Sophia leaned back in her chair and smiled, pleasantly surprised. Now that Clemens was out she could speak honestly and not get scolded. The young woman with raven black curly hair and full, beautiful lips was known throughout the vault as a smart, empathic person and a great conversationalist, though that image was something she felt forced to project. People who actually knew her didn't really want to listen to her speaking honestly because what she had to say usually deviated strongly from the general opinions of the rest of the residents. Now, given the chance to speak freely, she felt very happy.

'The thing is, Molly,' she started, 'there is no test anywhere in the world that would determine who you're going to be for the rest of your life. There's actually no way at all to determine that so the problem of the test isn't its brevity.'

The girl listened up, intrigued and honoured a grown-up was speaking with her honestly.

'It's just something the people of the vault need to believe in,' she continued, 'and it's only work. Yes, it is a great part of life, but think about it this way: the world was nuked heavily. Surely no one is going to be living to their fullest right now. We need compromises. And we don't need people compromising, we need them honest-to-god believing that it's fate, not a compromise. And that's the truth behind the G.O.A.T.'

'You telling me that kind of defeats the purpose.' The young girl observed.

'Indeed.' The teacher nodded. 'But you're smart enough to handle it, I think. You're a smart girl, and I don't think you'll end up thinking it's all you are for the rest of your life.'

The girl sighed, 'I suppose, but then again, it's easy for you to say. The G.O.A.T. gave _you_ the job you wanted.'

'It did,' she confirmed calmly, 'and it's a blessing, but believe me, people want so badly to see what tomorrow has in store for them that they'd believe anything that claims to hold the answer, and that goes to themselves and their perception of others. Despite having lucked out with the G.O.A.T. I had people telling me who I am and going to be all the time. My dad is from the Arnolds family, a bloodline of mental patients and deviants, and my mother is a Petersen, from the most upstanding family in the vault. All my life I had been watched, with people constantly commenting on which end of the scale I am and drawing conclusions about my fate based on that. And there is one thing I learnt from it that I want to teach you: life isn't a story the plot of which you can guess at. It changes constantly, change is the driving force behind it, and in my opinion, trying to live a static life is a fatal mistake. You will grow up and learn new things, your likes and dislikes will change, _everything_ will change, and each time you see something like the G.O.A.T. or so trying to tell you what you'll turn out to be, you just laugh it of and disregard it. Pay it no mind. That's what I've learnt about it.'

The girl nodded, deep in thought, and then smiled, 'I think you share traits form both those families,' the girl smiled, 'but you're right. Thank you. It was most illuminating.'

Sophia smiled and bid the girl farewell, then returned to her work.

'Molly Mane.' She thought and looked at the results sheet of that girl. A garbage burner.

She thought about changing it for a second but realized it would make everything she said to her pointless. So she changed nothing.

Whistling a merry tune she returned to her family's home that evening to behold once again the Arnolds genes fight the Petersens genes. She laughed it off and ate her dinner. Her mother looked at her lovingly. Her daughter, one of the most gorgeous women in the vault, smart, and social. Old lady Arnolds only wanted the best for her daughter and it pained her that she was not allowed the freedom of expression she deserved, she was a genius after all, and it was sad to see her say words that didn't belong to her, which, thanks to the fact that her work had to do with children, was often. That was probably why the day when the big news arrived she wasn't shocked or scared like the rest of the family. She only smiled faintly and felt glad for her daughter and proud of her. No matter what, Daisy Petersen-Arnolds believed Sophia was going to be just fine.

* * *

><p>Vault 13<p>

2161-02-22 05:25 PM

As he was passing by the few corridors he had to follow a very anxious Overseer through he was the subject of many shocked and hopeful glanced by people who happened to have been on their way. Jacoren dismissed all of the questions of the excited mob with simple we-will-sees. Back in the vault's control room, the Head Technician, an elderly balding man with a constantly excited expression, took the lump of rags from Matthew, carefully unfolded it, presented the water chop, blew what little dirt there was on it and went on with installation, while the leader of the Vault was on his toes in suspense, the vault dwellers were uneasily waiting behind the closed doors, and Matthew stood watching it all with surprising lack of interest. He _was_ anxious to see if he managed to complete his quest, but he wasn't as anxious as he thought he would be. In the end, he has long since quit troubling himself about the whole vault and started concentrating on himself, a pretty sad thing, he thought the few times he dwelt upon it.

'Okay, looking good so far...' The technician leaned back from the console, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. 'Looking good... We got it! All tests green! It's working!'

Overseer Jacoren started laughing from joy and relief and grabbed the confused physician's hand and shook it enthusiastically. 'You did it! You saved us! Oh, I can't _begin _to tell you how proud I am!'

The only thought in Matthew's confused head was, 'Proud? After all I did? Does he even know me at all?'

'And _you_ should be proud of yourself too!' The older man continued. 'You shall be remembered forever for this!'

'Thanks...' He said weakly, finding it hard to wrap his head around the fact that his quest was finally over. 'I just... I'm glad I could help...'

'Ah, so modest!' The Overseer laughed. 'Come on, we have to break the news to the others... Or would you rather shy away from that too?'

'I think I would...' Matthew replied quietly.

'Hey, no pressure! You've been through a lot and you deserve some peace and quiet. Only... Please go to the library and make a report regarding your travels when you're feeling up for it, okay? Now go rest. Some of the women kept your room nice and clean awaiting for your return.'

Matthew nodded and watched hazily as the Overseer went through the control room's door. A wave of noise soon came form that direction, all of it looking like something never seen before by the returning champion.

'I can't believe you actually did it!' The Head Technician said, staring at the display at the console and shaking his head in disbelieved. 'You saved us all. You're a real hero.'

* * *

><p>Vault 13<p>

2161-02-22 11:25 PM

First things first.

He kept his room locked while he went to rest and unpack there. He took off his black leather jacket and fell into the soft comfort of his bed hating even the idea of having to take off the rest of his clothes. A brand new Vault 13 jumpsuit was folded and placed neatly on his drawer, but he didn't feel like putting it on neither. Truth be told he didn't feel like putting on anything like that again. It just seemed to be... cold, repulsive.

Then again, so did his room, a small space with only a bed, a table with a chair, and a drawer, the shutters of the single window hallway-facing window closed. It was just steel and patches of cold fabric. It seemed like a cave, which would have went well with Matthew's recurring wish to just lie down and sleep a large amount of time away like a hibernating bear, but on the other hand seemed someone like a trap, like if he lingered here he could never again leave, and that seemed scary.

Turning from side to side and trying not to think about how awkward it's going to be to eventually meet the other vault dwellers, Matthew felt uneasy. Antsy, even. Like he had to go on and do something.

He was here, at the end of his quest, at the place where it all ends, but there was no feeling of rest and ending, only the continuously bothering question, 'how should I move on'.

Only then did he realise he won't just be able to come back home and rest, the end of his road would not destroyed the road itself or the scars and changes he received walking it. It just meant he wasn't walking that road anymore, and it felt like being lost and having lost something dear.

Yet he was scared to move on. How should he? What is he supposed to do? First of all, he had the big decision of _where_ to move on: in the underground or on the surface world, because admittedly no amount of having thought about it earlier prepared him for the current facing off with that question. He didn't know what he wanted to be and he didn;t even know what he _could_ be. He was just... lost.

It was way past bedtime for most vault dwellers when Matthew finally stood up and walked out of his room and into the library. He chose not to change into a jumpsuit and spent maybe two hours compiling a non-exhaustive report about his travels through post-apocalyptic California, leaving out many details regarding his companions, even their names because he didn't want his life in the vault and his life in the outside to have much contact, and, after some thought, not omitting the death of Evelyn, reasoning he didn't have the strength to talk to her parents.

As he finished he noticed two more reports in the system and opened those files.

The first one was a report by Sophia Arnolds, a brief and laconic one regarding her travelling through the surface world looking for the water chip.

Matthew leaned back in the chair. At least some of them made it.

A wave of fresh grief for Evelyn and newborn hatred for Jacoren washed over him and he had to pause for a few seconds to calm himself down.

Though he couldn't say it felt good, in a way. It was nice to feel anything.

Sophia's report told about her travels to Shady Sands, how she, unlike Matthew, acquired the knowledge about the collapsed control room before going there, how she travelled into the Hub, then Los Angeles (which she referred to as the Boneyard), and then back north again. It also told briefly about her unfortunate radscorpion encounter which she was from by another vault dweller passing by: Steven Miles.

Stevens report was even briefer than Sophia's and told of the man's adventures in the broadest strokes. Matthew understood Steven's goal from the very start was Los Angeles, like he didn't even know about Vault 15, and that the man 'wandered around' for a time, collecting information, before actually learning about Vault 15, heading back north, and running into Sophia, whom he saved and dragged back into Vault 13 for further medical assistance.

Matthew closed the files and walked out of the library, feeling even more sombre than before. His head was a mess of incoherent thoughts and he decided he was going to try and sleep on it before making a decision about what to do next.

* * *

><p>Vault 13<p>

2161-02-24 9:08 AM

He spent the next day locked up in his room, not feeling like going inside, and completely unable to focus on anything. Every passing second seemed like a physical punch to his gut and so he spent the day thinking back to random memories about his life both before and after his trip to the surface world, unable to conclude anything aside form the fact that wherever his future was, it was not in neither place these memories were acquired in. One part of his life ended and he had to move on, as changed as he was, to a place where he could truly be happy, a place that's nowhere in particular.

On the morning of the third day back in the vault he was summoned to the Overseer's office again and he ended up arriving there eight minutes late, not without knowledge or intention.

There, in the spacious office with the Overseer's mushroom-shaped throne with the man itself atop it two more people stood waiting, facing his back.

He didn't need to guess who they were, and upon realizing that he didn't need to guess how this would end, only what reason the lord of the vault will give for the exile of these three of them.

Like Matthew, Steven Miles, a person he knew by passing, was wearing wastelander clothes: weathered blue jeans and a dirty black t-shirt. His hair was longer than the last he'd seen him but there wasn't any more visible changes to the man: he looked at Matthew with the same cryptic expression and nodded.

The other person, Sophia Arnolds, was in her vault jumpsuit, and looked a bit more different than Matthew had seen her last time. She didn't bother with make-up today, she didn't bother with doing her hair today and wore it lose, and finally, unlike all the other times he'd seen her, she seemed to be antsy and lacking confidence, maybe even troubled.

Matthew had seen himself in the mirror earlier and had a hard time recognizing his face. It's not he'd changed so much, he just hadn't seen it for a long time and was quite surprised to see all the wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes, and the huge black crow's feet.

Jacoren, on the other hand, was looking spotless, back to his natural colour and completely stress free immediately after the situation was resolved. He greeted Matthew with a smile and uncharacteristically said nothing about him being late.

'So, now that we're all here,' the old man started, 'I would like to have a talk with you. It's very important and might have dire consequences to the vault, and I'm speaking to you as the most experienced and able people we have.'

He tried to butter them up but Matthew didn't care about it. He knew Steve didn't too, and Sophia would sooner chew off her own hand than take Jacoren's words at face value.

'I read through your reports last night, and I must say I was scared!' He continued dramatically. 'Not _by_ them, but what was _in_ them! The surface world, as I learned, is a cruel place, and I respect all of you for going out there for us... But what lurks in there... It's not just a danger to those who leave here! It's a danger to all of us here!'

Sophia shifted her body's weight from one foot to another, impatient. She was probably urging the Overseer to cut to the chase and throw them out in her head.

'The number of mutants described within the reports is staggering! And I read it in Matthew's report that a group of the big ones was actively seeking out the vaults with plans for their dwellers! And they actually managed to find one!'

There it was, the excuse for their departure.

'So... I hate to do this, but I must ask you all to perform this one last task for us.' The Overseer made his best 'regret' face. 'I need you to go out there again and put a stop to them, or even, if it seems impossible, return here with more indepth information about them so we can all arrive at a decision...' He looked at each of them, judging. They were all impassive, except for the slightly nervous-looking Sophia.

'What do you say?' He prompted.

There was a brief silence.

'When do we leave?' Matthew asked neutrally.

'Whenever you like it. No pressure.' The Overseer assured.

'Fine then.' Sophia shrugged. 'May we go?'

'...You may.' He replied, confused.

The three vault dweller turned around, left the Overseer's office and got into the elevator without speaking another word. They each returned to their homes in their respective floors in silence.

* * *

><p>Mount Whitney<p>

2161-02-24 4:22 PM

He felt like he was running on empty. He didn't do anything to move things forward but instead remained content with going whatever direction the wind was blowing. He just couldn't bring himself to care, and it was belief that his two new companions felt the same way, or at least similarly. They didn't talk about it. They just each went home and packed their stuff. A few minutes later Sophia was at his doorstep and as soon as he opened the door, the rucksack on his back, she turned around and headed off to the elevator carrying her own pack. Thus they gathered by the great steel door in silence, one Jacoren's praises and the vault dwellers' wishes of good luck couldn't break through.

'There's an abandoned building to the south, we can spend the night there.' These words of Steven's, spoken at the mouth of the cave, were the first thing any of them said to each other ever since this whole ordeal started.

Matthew looked upon his companions, then to the mountain landscape, and felt a bit more peaceful. He didn't know what he was doing but he liked the sensation that he was doing something. He didn't care how this would end, and he didn't give an ounce of thought for the task he was given. He was just... running on empty.

Then he couldn't hold it in much longer. 'They call it Alpha and Omega,' he said, 'the Beginning and the End. They claim they walk together in identical strides, the thinking people. They look at the large silhouette far away and say that it's two things, Alpha and Omega. But they are mistaken. The thing they think they see is close to what they think it is and refers to the same thing, but it's not Alpha and Omega walking along. There's just one figure there, and it's neither of those two. It's change. Nothing ever begins and nothing ever ends, only changes. You can abandon your old life and call it Omega, then start a new one and call it Alpha. But your life won't have ended and started up again because you did it, or tried to do it. No matter where you are, you didn't just appear there out of nowhere, you travelled there through a specific road and whether you like it or not brought some luggage with you. The same learned men would call it Delta. It represents change. It represents that we can never find rest.'

He finished, exhausted, and looked around the landscape, now full of promises of a brighter tomorrow. Sophia smiled. Steven nodded. They felt pretty much the same way. They were, after all, people put through the same thing he was.

They started towards the south and the building Steven was talking about, ignorant and uncaring of what awaited for them in the future: new goals, new flow to their lives, and new things to care about, for better or worse, because the roads that people take in life stop only with death.

* * *

><p>The hallway was made of steel and had precious little decoration to it. It was dirty, but not the point of uselessness. A super mutant was slowly walking down the hallway. He was bigger than the other mutants and carried himself with pride. His right eye was a red bionic one and he wore metal armour custom-crafted to cover his bulk. The small doorways with yellow force fields instead of doors were lined up close next to each other on both sides of the hallway, marking the last and sturdiest wall of the holding cells.<p>

The mutant approached a specific holding cell and looked at its number, then found a corresponding page on the clipboard he was carrying.

'Subject identified by other soldiers as Rhonda Hightower,' he murmured as he read, 'a resident of the Hub. Female, 25 to 30 years old. An important figure, according to other specimen.'

The mutant growled. The intel regarding new subjects was subpar and it wexed him greatly to go in and try to stabilize the recruits without knowing anything about them.

'Then again,' he thought as he punched in a password into a nearby console and powered down the force-field to one of the cells, 'neither do _they_ once they undergo the process.'

The creature inside the holding cell, once known as Rhonda Hightower, was a big blue Super Mutant sitting with its knees to its chin and it arms hugging the legs in the corner of the small cell, gently rocking back and forth, the blind gaze fixed on nothing in particular.

'Hail, Nightkin!' The bigger mutant's voice boomed. The blue one rose its head slowly, trying to process the figure before it.

'You're not Ian.' It replied quietly. 'You're not Ian, not Ian, not Ian, I am waiting, I am waiting for him he is going to rescue me!'

'Look at me, Nightkin!' The soldier commanded somewhat more softly. The blue mutant's rocking stopped and it looked into its face. 'I am not here to hurt you. I am merely interested in you. I want to ask you some questions, or maybe even offer you a present.' The honey it put on its words would've come out as venom to a more psychologically stable person.

'Ask about me?' The other mutant's eyes lit up. 'About my work? About my Ian Society of Ian? I mean, of Rescue?'

'About you, Nightkin. What is your name?'

'What is my name?' The creature asked in return. 'What _is_ my name?'

'Is it not Rhonda Hightower?'

The blue mutant broke her gaze and stared off into the floor, starting to rock again.

'No, no, I'm not.' She replied sadly. 'Rhonda Hightower was a fair maiden who was kidnapped and she waited for her prince Ian to rescue her but he never came and so she died. Rhonda is dead. Rhonda isn't me.'

The mutant with the metal armour sighed. 'Why didn't 'Prince Ian' come, then?'

The mutant's voice became bitter. 'He was fucking that whore Tabitha! He wanted her pussy more than he wanted Rhonda alive! The bastard! The fucking bitch! She is a fucking murdering bitch!' The mutant seemed on the verge of a psychotic breakdown.

'Calm down, Nightkin, calm down.' He tried, getting more and more irritated. Nightkin were wonderful soldiers, but despite all the good things they could do for the cause persuading them to join without messing up their brains was becoming a tedious job. 'You are alive, aren't you? So you are not Rhonda. Prince Ian did not save you.'

'But he did! He did!' The mutant jumped up. 'I love him and he saved me! He is so good! So beautiful and good! He couldn't have left me! He is special! He is perfect! He could not leave me! I can't be dead!'

'So you're not Rhonda, but someone Ian saved?'

The mutant thought for a moment. 'Ian saved Tabitha...' She offered weakly. The other mutant smiled. The first step of getting the nightkin from the vats to the field was to establish their ID, which he could then use as a point of reference for convincing them to follow the unity. And this one was almost there...

'What is your name, then, Nightkin?' The mutant demanded loundly.

'I am Tabitha!' The other mutant exclaimed. 'I am Tabitha! I am that good fucking bitch! I am that cocksucking murdering wasteland whore!'

A sinister smile flourished upon the face of the larger mutant as the blue one's curses filled the crowded cell block. He established her new ID within a few minutes. With some proper motivation she could become one of the most loyal servants of the Master, despite her radiation handicap.

He opened his mouth again and continued spinning the web of lies around the newest addition to the army, taking care it would be made of things that could never be denied to her specifically. It was a beautiful day. A powerful mutant was born.


	18. Trails, Part One

It was one of the most horrible moments of his life and definitely the worst day and he thought he'd have nightmares about it, but he didn't, not until that night at least.

He saw Ian in his dream, in the parking lot by the Necropolis Watershed. He seemed bigger in the dream, stronger, and when the plasma bolt came it seemed like it made only a small hole in his torso, but the iron giant still collapsed heavily on the pavement, dead.

Tycho and Tabitha were there, too, but it wasn't like it actually happened. In the dream, apart from looking somewhat thinner, weaker, and sun-beached, they simply stood there, Tabitha on his right and Tycho on his left as he was sat at the pavement, treating the wound on his leg, which seemed a small scratch in his dream. They said nothing and he said nothing, though he tried, he just didn't seem able to move.

And then there was that feeling, an empty bottomless pit inside him, a void, upon seeing Ian die again. In the dream the merc felt like an extension of himself, but the strange thing about it was that in some sense it didn't. Ian felt like his limb, but an artificial one, one he'd attached to himself, familiar and distant at the same time. He felt confused. His three companions felt to him like a shield he'd put up to protect himself. He always thought of them as his superiors, someone he owed his life to, and the thing he hated the most was even thinking about coaxing them into helping him further, he always made sure that if they helped him it was by their own volition but it didn't feel like it in his dream. It felt like they were there because they were his shield that he'd brought them along to protect himself.

And now, these two fragile trees on either side of him, the dead body ahead, and himself on the pavement felt like a steep rock cliff, a part of which, Ian, had crumbled, and the other two, the ones beside him, would follow. In the end, only Matthew would remain, he felt it, the other two parts of the rock would quickly follow Ian and fall down into the void below, but he would stand, a lonely testament of what once was.

He woke up with a jerk but without a sound covered in cold sweat in the Common House, which took him a few moments to recognize.

He sat down on the bed and thought back to his dream. Then he made his decision.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-02-24 09:28 PM

There were only three people he'd ever considered as someone close to him: his mom, his dad, and Evelyn. His mom and dad died when he was fourteen, an accident in the power plant. It was at a time before Evelyn and there was no one to see him through as the vault dwellers clustered together by the family to weather the consequences of the accident. There was one man, though, who tried to help him, though it took him some time to understand it: his teacher. He went to great extents to make sure Matthew was never left alone and was always occupied with schoolwork. The older man pushed him real hard and he hated him for forcing him into the small 'friendly' gatherings where he was, for the most part, ignored, and where the air was filled with fright. By the time the power plant was running properly again Matthew had become a sombre loner. It was only a couple of years later that he learned, from Evelyn, that the teacher's strategy was to help Matthew overcome grief by working. She said that once you resign in the face of pain you rarely ever stand back up, that the grief envelops you and never lets go. And the only way to fight it is work: thinking of something else. This truth was once again proven that night in the cabin.

Matthew and Sophia followed Steven from the door of Vault 13 to the log building in the mountains, abandoned, sturdy and having stood the test of time rather well, with only dust and faded colours to testify that the test even took place. It was placed up a small road covered with wind-blown sediment to the extent of being nearly invisible, thus the place was unused and not looted.

The interior was humble, the elements and what little small life remained having weakened the construction of the wooden building and the humble furniture made mostly from wood, cloth and fur. There were some tin cans with food in the cupboard and Steven soon removed a floorboard to reveal a large stockpile of it. Apparently, he couldn't carry most of it but decided to hide it away instead for his own use, leaving some as well for any lucky survivors, none of whom have apparently found the cabin since his last visit. The three settled down in the dry and shady interior of the building, the wood doing little against the high outside temperature.

Sophia began the conversation.

'How do you think we should go about taking care of the mutant menace?'

Stephen said nothing and his face didn't even show any traces of having registered the question as he put the tinned beans by the fire place by the fire he made. Matthew sighed and tried to think.

'Do you know anything about them?' He asked, reckoning the first step would be to find out as much as possible about what they were dealing with.

'No.' Sophia replied. I have never even encountered them, all I know is from what you wrote in that report.'

Matthew nodded.

'I've seen them once.' Stephen said impassively, sitting on the dusty wooden floor watching the beans or the fire, one couldn't tell. 'It was near L.A., at a distance. Saw some of those blue ones in black leathers pass by.'

'Have you ever heard people talk about them?'

'Twice.' Came the reply, seemingly without any need of thinking it through before it came out. 'Once I heard people in Adytum talk about Super Mutants who came to Necropolis and took up shop there. The other time was deeper in L.A., in the Library, talking about invisible mutants stalking around the old city.'

'Any rumours about them?'

'A few.' Stephen replied, still emotionless and seemingly unthinking. 'The ones that made sense were, in the first case, that they were setting up an outpost in Necropolis and that occasionally they would drag people out of there to the north-west, and in the second case that they lived somewhere in the city and that they were trying to look like they weren't by the way they're always sneaking about.'

'Northwest of Necropolis is what?' Matthew asked. 'Sacramento, San Francisco…'

'Are we really looking for a city?' Sophia asked. 'Whatever is causing it I cannot see how it could be something of the Old World that is contained in a city.'

'We have two possibilities.' Matthew stated. 'Northwest and Los Angeles.'

'I think the former is just a rumour.' The woman opined.

'The Brotherhood's north-west too.' Stephen stated.

His two companions thought about it.

'Who are they, exactly?' Matthew asked.

'Some religious sect living in a bunker.' Sophia explained. 'They worship technology, or so I've heard.'

'They have access to high-grade Pre-War tech.' Stephen expanded. 'T-51b Power Armour, laser and plasma weaponry, comm tech, you name it.'

'They could fit the bill.' Matthew opined.

'Why would technology-worshipping zealots create Super-Mutants? _If_ they are created, and I pretty much doubt that. Seems to me like they're an independent post-war mutant society, why associate them with someone else?'

Matthew looked at Stephen for an opinion but the man was too busy staring emptily so he strained his strangely numb brain to think of an answer.

'Agenda.' He said. 'What is the Brotherhood's agenda?'

'I don't know.' Sophia answer. Stephen shrugged.

'I think we should investigate them.' Matthew suggested.

'They're very secretive.' Sophia stated. 'We would need to be _inside_ they're tightly locked and guarded bunker to even start.'

'I know someone from there,' Matthew recalled, 'met him briefly, saved him from some thugs who took him hostage.'

'If he's back in the bunker it won't do us any good.' Sophia observed. 'We need to get inside as well, but how?'

Stephen picked up the cans and gave them to his comrades. As he started chewing the first spoonful of beans he finally spoke up, 'I know a way.'

'Really?' Sophia raised an eyebrow in disbelief. 'How?'

'Been over there, asked if I could come inside, thought they had a water chip. They said to go to this place and fetch this holotape to get in the Brotherhood. But it's far away and I think sending people there might be their way of getting rid of nosy people. They call the place the Glow.'

'I can see where your suspicion is coming from.' Sophia laughed sarcastically. 'Surely it's a place they send people to die.'

'Do you know anything about it?' Matthew asked.

'No.' Stephen replied. 'Only that it's southeast of the Hub.'

They fell silent.

'The Brotherhood is high-tech,' Sophia opined, 'they should have enough manpower to deal with the mutants or at least the means to track them down. They're worth checking out.'

'It's either that or L.A.,' Matthew concluded, 'so I think we should ask around about the Glow and then decide, east or west.'

'Agreed.' Sophia nodded. 'But where to?'

'The Hub is the biggest town around…' Matthew offered weakly, immediately regretting it for he had no wish to go back there.

'Yeah,' Sophia agreed, to his misfortune, 'It's the biggest place around, and it's packed with traders so someone _has_ to know something about that place.'

Matthew nodded weakly and proceeded to eat his meal, lukewarm by the end of that conversation.

He felt empty up to that point, unable to move, unable to give himself direction. It's not like he actually wanted to destroy the Super Mutants, this whole deal seemed really out of context to him, but at least it made him think of something other than the emptiness inside.

* * *

><p>The mongoloid woman looked like a man, even though she wasn't even military personnel. Her almond eyes atop high prominent cheekbones were ringed with black and her gaunt face with a shapeless nose looked foreboding, like this wasn't someone to fuck with. Her black shoulder-length hair was neatly greased along the back of her head so they would not interfere with her activities and the big purple robe she wore added to the gender ambiguity she was basically wallowing in. She wasn't a fighter, she was a technician and somewhat of a scientist, working in the most sensitive place of her steel, labyrinthine underground home, but to those under her she was the mean drillmaster.<p>

She was frowning. Despite all her toughness she looked small and fragile in front of the Super Mutant she was arguing with, but she still didn't give an inch in the argument.

'You want to outfit a nightkin with one of the eyebots.' She repeated his statement irritated. 'And you want to see if I'm okay with it. Well I'm not. I don't pull eyebots out of my ass, those are some exquisite pre-war technology.'

The super mutant sighed, 'Rhonda, or Tabitha, is a very powerful super mutant and could help us immensely in the cause if we had a way to control her unstable mind. I believe it is a sensible investment. After all, you _do_ want to unite the Wasteland, do you not?'

'I do.' The woman replied not without a hint of feeling insulted. 'But I don't see how this is going to help. All you're concerned about are warriors and our strength.'

'Isn't it imperative to our cause?'

'No.' The woman dead-panned. 'It _would_ be if our cause was to kill everyone and create a wasteland with what population we already have. But that's not what we're trying to do. We're looking to unite the wasteland, not establish our own order. And to do this, we need intelligence, we need to keep our chapters running and people coming, our military presence is a minor concern compared to that.'

'You would neglect a fellow Meta-Human of a vital peace of technology?'

She was irritated now. 'Do you want your Meta-Humans to live in luxury or do you want to unite the wasteland?'

The super mutant didn't reply for they both knew what it would be. She was just trying to jab him. He didn't give her the satisfaction of defending himself. He knew his intentions were genuine and his master knew so what did it matter?

'Miss Sugurono…'

'If you're going to ask nicely then you'd better save it.' She dead-panned. 'Unless you have any further arguments, good ones, then I consider this conversation over. You have eyebots doing military recon, use them. Our stock of spy eyebots is unsatisfactory as it is and I don't see how your _powerful_ Meta-Humans,' she stressed vehemently, 'even need recon.'

The Super Mutant sighed.

'So is that all?' She pushed.

'It is.' The mutant said calmly. 'I'm sorry for the interruption.' And with this he walked out of the control room.

The woman, Yuna, followed the mutant leaving with her eyes and slowly resumed her work, still irritated by the conversation.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-02-26 01:32 PM

'So, to sum it up,' Sophia concluded, 'it was rough but I made it due to the help of the odd nice person. Too bad most of them were only passers-by...'

Matthew nodded and thought back to his comrades. He was lucky to have him. Sophia had to make do with brief encounters and travelling with the caravans where any friends she'd make would leave her as soon as they reached their predetermined destination. Except for one, but she didn't expand upon that.

'What about you?' Sophia asked Steven, who was on the lookout for trouble.

'Went alone basically all the way.' He reported laconically. 'Learnt that everyone has an agenda. Learnt that everyone wants something from me.'

'You just didn't luck out on meeting some nice folk.' The woman smiled. 'Trust me, there are some around.'

He said nothing, just stared off into the wastes.

He looked back a second too late, only to see a short malnourished man in tattered clothes jumping at them from the other side of a rock, a combat knife in hand. Steven managed to only draw his pistol halfway up before he had to block the blow with his hands. Two more raiders appeared a bit ahead, the cracks of weak pistols preceding them.

Matthew and Sophia dove out of the way and behind a rock for cover. Steven kicked the raider and dove back to the safety between his comrades. The young assailant took a moment to regain his balance and was about to lunge forward again when, along with a distant crack of a pistol, a red mist suddenly ejected itself from his shoulder and the man fell down on the sand screaming and clutching the wound.

Their weapons were drawn now, Matthew's hunting rifle, Sophia's double-barrelled, and Steven's assault rifle he drew after holstering his pistol. The vault's security guard ventured a peak around the rock but dove back suddenly as a report of a pistol sounded through the empty wasteland and a puff of dust erupted from the rock they were hiding behind.

'A rock at two o'clock.' Steven reported. 'Two of them, quite exposed at either side of the rock.'

Matthew nodded, completely at a loss as to what to do.

'I suppress them with my rifle, you try to shoot them with yours.' Steven said, not commanded, like was discussing weather. Matthew nodded again, inched to the other side of the rock and prepared his rifle.

The automatic rifle fire from the security officer's gun preceded his breaking his cover. Matthew stood up and aimed at one of the raiders. He shot and missed and Steven stopped to reload.

'Keep aiming, they'll stand up at the same spot.' Steven said. Matthew kept his sights just above that rock.

Sure enough, a raider popped up at that very spot ready to fire, but Matthew was quicker. He pulled the trigger and dove back behind the rock, unable to see his bullet pierce the raider's throat through-and-through. Steven was ducking under the rock having finished reloading.

'Sophia, think you can flank them while we supress them?' He asked, seemingly unmoved by the life-threatening situation.

She just gave him a questioning look.

'Get out of cover, and walk a semicircle towards the rock to get behind it and shoot the raider in the face.' He explained neutrally.

She took a large breath, obviously scared at the prospect, but she nodded with determination nonetheless.

'Matt, fire as I reload.' The blonde said, ready to jump up and fire. 'Sophia, be sure you can take cover immediately should something go wrong.'

The teacher nodded again and Steven jumped up, Matthew following a second later, his eye on the iron sights but his finger frozen. Sophia started crouching forward, her terror-filled eyes fixed on the rock, the butt of the shotgun against her shoulder ready to fire.

As Steven finished the clip Matthew started shooting, trying to spread bullets evenly throughout the gap. Sophia was halfway there.

The raider suddenly poked his head and gun out from then side of the rock and fired at the rock. Matthew winced and switched targets to try and shoot him down instead of pointlessly chipping away at the rock. He missed and the raider returned to cover, hopefully without having seen Sophia who was sticking close to the rocks.

Steven resumed his supressing fire and Matthew's trigger finger was itching as Sophia neared the rock, ready to put one in the raider's head if possible.

She was vulnerable out there, so close to the raider one shot could end her. He noticed she was frowning, deep in concentration with only a hint of fear she broke cover with.

A shotgun blast sounded through the wasteland.

Steven stopped firing. His finger was frozen on the trigger and Sophia was frozen, crouched and frowning.

Time seemed to stop.

She slowly stood up and looked back at them, then nodded with determination, still tense.

Matthew slowly lowered his rifle and exhaled.

The sound of a pistol shooting made both his and hers heads turn at Steven, who was standing over the raider who was shot in the shoulder by his own. He now had a hole in the head and the blonde vault dweller was standing beside him, holstering his pistol, his face as if he was watching a wide grassy field. Or a dirty toilet. One couldn't tell.

* * *

><p>It was a small town before the war and was now but a set of rubble that provided cover for almost a dozen hulking monstrosities, all sitting or walking around crouched, the occasional dumb mutant who broke cover being shouted at by one of the two blue monsters who were higher up in the chain of command. There was a third blue one, a nightkin, but it paid little mind to what was going on, content to sit by a piece of rubble in what seemed to be a war camp talking to an eyebot hovering close to the ground. The eyebot was a metal sphere with loudspeakers taking up most of its front side and antennas protruding from the back like a strand of hair that was waxed to be parallel to the ground.<p>

'So what _is_ your name, ma'am?' A robotic voice came from the loudspeakers.

The mutant thought about it, having been discussing the question with herself the last hour.

'My name is Tabitha.' The mutant said finally. 'I am Tabitha! I am that murdering bitch! I am that Brahmin-fucking diseased infested whore!'

Another nightkin turned his head at her, meditating hushing her as they were setting up an ambush here and the unstable mutant was likely to ruin it.

'Hello then, miss Tabitha.' The robotic voice came. 'I was assigned to be your friend for now.'

The mutant, Tabitha, seemed to think it over for a bit.

'What is your name, friend?' She asked.

'I am assigned EB-MS-047, miss Tabitha.'

'Oh, gosh, that is a terrible name!' The mutant threw her hands up in an overly dramatic fashion.

'Would you assign me another?' The robot asked.

'Hmm…' The mutant thought, stroking her chin. The other nightkin who was standing by a small abandoned grocery store rolled its eyes. It was always like that with the crazy ones, they always acted like overacting small children on a school play. 'I know!' She exclaimed, finally earning a hush from the other mutant. She looked at him questioningly and continued. 'This is a beautiful name of a princess who was captured by the Dark Knights of the Wasteland. She waited for her Prince to rescue her and wept a lake of tears waiting, but he didn't come because she was fucking that bitch Tabitha and she died. I shall call you Rhonda!'

'Very well, miss Tabitha. And what an interesting story! So the princess died because you were having intercourse with the prince?'

Tabitha seemed confused and thought about it for a second. 'I am Tabitha!' She exclaimed, earning a second hush from the mutant. 'I wrapped my bitch legs around him and didn't let him go until she died! I drank his semen and I drank his blood! I killed children and decent citizens!'

'Speaking of decent citizens,' the robot interrupted, 'what about this wasteland, huh? Surely it is a desolate place that could do with some sort of government or a new order?'

'Huh?' Tabitha was confused again. 'I... guess. Yes! We need less people like that bitch Tabitha in the wasteland, that's what we need!'

'Have I ever told you of the Unity? It offers order and equality to all as citizens of a mutated, Meta-Human utopic civilization. My data shows you were involved in governing and I calculate you should be able to sympathize with our cause.'

Tabitha opened her mouth and gaped for a second, lost for words. 'Yes… Maybe… no! I am that bitch Tabitha! I don't…'

'Take cover!' A nightkin exclaimed. 'Caravan approaching!'

The mutants lazily started moving around the town on their knees, trying hard not to be seen. Most of them went inside the small store while others hid in any more spacious place near its entrance.

'Miss Tabitha, Human Capture Procedure is now in progress. Please assume stand-at-ready stealth position in the back of the groceries outlet over there.'

'Huh?'

Another nightkin approached her and basically dragged her inside the store, cursing, while the eyebot, Rhonda, followed her into the grocery store barking out more instructions with all those difficult words. The nightkin shoved her into the freezer in the back, long since having worked and told her to draw her Super Sledge and keep quiet while Rhonda went into a long-winded explanation of the procedure she stayed oblivious to, her eyes darting about in confusion.

All went silent and within twenty minutes the sound of human and Brahmin feet could be heard outside the store.

'Get that load off of her, Pete,' a voice was heard outside, 'me and the boys'll sweep the inside of this. The break's not started yet!' The man entered the store. 'We need to secure this first, greenhorns.'

The man's footsteps grew closer and Tabitha clutched her Sledge tighter, afraid and confused.

She heard the other mutants suddenly jump up and surround the incoming caravaners.

'The fuck…' She heard a human voice say.

'It's the Super Mutants!' Came another. 'Shoot them!'

'Put your guns down and you'll live!' She heard a mutant exclaim as a shotgun blast pierced the relative silence, followed immediately by the soft sound of a plasma rifle firing.

She recalled the 'training' these strange folk put her through and did the first thing that came to her mind.

'Kill!' She exclaimed as she jumped on her feet, ran past her stunned comrades and swept the sledge like a scythe through the small crowd of half a dozen humans, hitting four of them.

'Miss Tabitha, the protocol explicitly states…' Rhonda attempted while a nightkin grabbed Tabitha from behind her.

'Simmer down, nightkin!'

If the humans weren't scared before they were now and those that weren't hit by her, including those who saw the whole thing unfold though the large windows, surrounded by mutants who hid themselves outside, drew their guns and started firing.

By the time she calmed down and sat up every single one was gunned down by the mutants.

'Miss Tabitha, such a poor performance and crude disregard of protocol!' Rhonda opined like a father chiding a child. 'I expected more from you!'

'Shut up!' The angry nightkin who tackled Tabitha commanded the robot. 'And you, you crazy mutant! I'm gonna see you shipped back home for them to hammer some sense into you! We just had to kill all the targets! Such a waste of human life and it's all your fault! You better keep your head down you good for nothing scum!'

The mutant emphasized the last word by shoving the very confused Tabitha to the ground and walking away.

'What did I do?' She asked puzzled as she sat back up.

'Disregard of Human Collection Protocol, outline Four: harm as few humans as possible.' Rhonda replied mechanically.

'Rhonda!' The mutant laughed. 'How smart you talk!'

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-02-28 02:28 PM

They continued their wasteland trek in silence, still a bit shaken by the attack, each one of them replaying it in their minds, coming out with all sorts of conclusions. Sophia would from time to time comment on it, making Matthew believe she was meditating how to make it safer for all of them to take care of any hostiles while Steven remained as silent as ever, probably thinking the same from what Matthew understood of him.

Shady Sands was soon just before them as they looked at the settlement from atop a dune. Matthew looked at it and all the memories of it came rushing back. The quiet and peaceful place he didn't like because of what he was there, a false hero, an artificial idol for people to worship.

Sophia could only try and recall small bits of her brief visit as a confused fresh vaultie.

Matthew looked at Steven who was new to the place to see his reaction. There wasn't one. Figures.

He rolled his eyes irritated and started thinking why the hell he did that at that very moment.

Katrina the greeter jumped up high into the air as she saw them approach, greeting Matthew with her eyes wide in amazement, and a mysterious smile crept onto her face as she saw Sophia, a woman she'd seen only briefly in town, in wastelander clothes. Tandi was there at the gate before he could blink and they soon found themselves in the cool Common House, steaks and scotch on the house, and the permanent aura of hail heroes. Matthew soon found Sophia smiling at him in a strange way as they sat down and started eating their steaks, Aradesh having shooed away all of the nosy people so they could dine in peace with him and his daughter.

'You _must_ tell me of your adventures in the wasteland, Matthew.' Aradesh smiled.

'We have only heard the few rumours that reached us with the odd caravans!' Tandi chipped in. Aradesh frowned a little at that and Sophia immediately noticed it.

'Are you not happy with the arrangement?' Sophia asked.

'We are a small and self-sufficient community.' Aradesh answered slowly. 'We were fine back when the caravans were few and far in-between. I suppose it's a bit better now that we see more trade, but it's not a vital need and I fear for the integrity of my people when facing those merchants. Some of them are rather crude.'

'Come on!' Tandi interrupted him. 'They've got good stories!'

'A good story is a story coming from a good person.' Her father said patiently. 'Which is why I am interested to hear about you. And is true that you lived in a vault, or is it you wasteland persona?'

Matthew shuffled uncomfortably at the question. 'I am.'

He looked at Matt sceptically. 'I don't see how a vault dweller could possess such skill but I see no reason for you to lie. In any case, how did you do on your journeys? And where are Ian and Tabitha?'

He frowned a little saying her name too and he hoped Sophia wouldn't pick up on that. Or the fact that they were long-term comrades he had no wish of seeing.

His mind took a brief discourse to that and he found it strange that now it wasn't like he didn't want to see them for a particular reason or like all the shit he felt back then he'd feel right now thinking about it.

He saw the expecting eyes of everyone and struggled to find what to say. 'We made it to the Hub alright.' He said. 'We went to Necropolis too and… I'm sorry. Ian died there.'

Tandi's eyes went wide and Aradesh lowered his head. 'He will be missed.' He said. 'How did this happen?'

Matt took a nervous breath and looked at his companions, both of whom were looking at him, Steven without emotion and Sophia with interest. Here goes.

'A plasma bolt to the chest.' He said sombrely.

'But who killed him?' Aradesh pushed.

Matthew paused. 'A Super Mutant.'

Everyone but Steven took these news with great surprise. Matthew immediately spotted disapproval in Sophia's look.

'They're real!' Tandi screeched. 'And they got Ian, oh my!'

'So the rumours are true.' Aradesh seconded solemnly. 'What a tragic turn of events. But he died for a good cause?'

'Yes.' Matthew thought of how to put it. 'He died to save a lot of people.'

'How long did you travel together?' Sophia asked, not without a pointy edge to her voice.

Matthew kept his head low. 'Most of the time I was out here.'

'I see.' She said and took a swig of scotch.

'He was a good man.' Aradesh kept going with his impromptu eulogy. 'And he served you well during our plight, Hero of Shady Sands.'

Matthew's fingers twitched on the table upon hearing that and Sophia obviously noticed it. Was there anything she didn't? At least her look got a bit softer upon hearing that, interested, not irritated.

'That's something he didn't tell us about.' Sophia said, without venom. 'What happened here?'

'Oh!' Tandi jumped up. 'Tabitha came here one day and said she'll kill the radscorpions…'

'Tabitha the mercenary,' Aradesh continued, 'was hired to take care of the problem. She took care of it but sustained heavy injuries in the process. Matthew saved her, then helped us repel the attack of raiders who kidnapped my daughter that night and at last lead our men to the attack on the raiders and liberated by daughter. He is the hero of Shady Sands and we can never thank him enough for his good deeds.'

'Wow, sounds amazing.' Sophia smiled deviously.

'It was!' Tandi smiled and jumped up. 'He came in the night and rescued me! He's a hero!'

'And now we see you with another crew.' Aradesh smiled. 'It seems you left Tabitha behind.'

Seeing an opening, Matt jumped on it. 'Yeah, we just kinda… drifted apart. Probably for the best.'

He was never a good liar. That woman probably saw through that.

No matter, though. He can always come up with a fake sob story.

'Might be.' Aradesh agreed. 'She was a rather… callous woman. Anyway, where do you intend to travel now?'

Matthew looked at his companions again, wishing one of them would speak up instead of him, but they had no intention to, so he had to spit it out instead.

'We're looking into this place, the Glow, need to find out as much as we can about it.'

'The Glow?' The settlement's leader thought of the name for a bit. 'I don't believe I know of such a place. Why would you need to go something named thusly?'

'Oh, we're just looking for this thing there so we could get into the Brotherhood.'

'Why?' Aradesh frowned.

'Oh,' Sophia chipped in, with a small smile, 'we're looking to end this Super Mutant menace and we think we can accomplish it by getting in, at least by gaining some valuable information or technology.'

'The Hero of Shady Sands is at it again!' Aradesh proclaimed, touched. 'May Dharma watch over your righteous quest!'

'Thank you for your kind words.' Matthew bowed his head slightly, trying to sound appreciative. 'We hope to bring you good news soon.'

Sophia was now smiling and looking at him, amused.

Steven took a swig of scotch, looking emotionless and, to Matthew's surprise, somewhat tired.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-02-28 10:11 PM

'You never told us you were a hero.' Sophia stated with venom, sitting down on a bed in the Common House empty of everyone but the three of them. Matthew was sitting on another bed idly and Steven had just wiggled under the sheets.

Matthew took a deep sigh and considered his words, finally deciding to go with the truth. 'I'm not, really. Someone else did all the work. I was just the poster boy. Hate the whole deal.'

She smiled and softened somewhat. 'It's good to hear. It looks like at least one of us left a mark in the wasteland. Besides, you are the one to have brought back the chip.'

Matthew stuck his eyes to the ground. 'I lucked out. Met some good people.'

'But you lost them?'

'Yes.' He answered maybe a split second too fast. 'I just… I think it's partially my fault. I was being an ungrateful brat.'

Sophia shrugged. 'Really? Sounds to me like it's not the case. Someone who can refuse the title of hero is not an ungrateful brat.'

'I never told any of these people I don't deserve it neither.'

'Why?'

He wanted to lie so bad, to make him look like more of a bastard to make his story a little bit more credible. Alas.

'I think they need to think I am. Maybe that's what I tell myself…' He offered. She smiled and rolled her eyes.

'Yeah, right.'

She looked at Steven, already sound asleep.

'That guy doesn't have a care in the world.' She smiled. 'Did you even know him before this?'

'Spent an evening drinking flavoured medicinal spirit with him.' Matthew smiled. 'I didn't find his silence so bothering back then.'

'Things were different…' Sophia nodded and adopted a longing gaze at nothing in particular. 'Things changed, haven't they? I was an aspiring teacher, I really loved kids and my job and I was troubled only by not reaching out to some of them enough. And suddenly, I am out here troubled by killing people, and then troubled because I wasn't troubled because of it.' She smiled a sad smile.

'You too?' He finally raised his head. 'I had that too. Felt like shit.'

She looked at him, finally seeing him again, 'How did you cope?'

'I suppose by the time I realized I needed more control over it it was already too late. I just lost it.' He paused. 'Met a ranger guy, said it was a virtue that I felt it, but even if I didn't feel it I had enough sense not to do it because I'm a human being.'

'Sounds right. They say you should live so you could live with yourself and sleep at night, but as soon as I faced real life I found myself being able to sleep with cold-blooded murder.'

'It's not just the heart you need to follow.' She smiled and looked back at Steven again. 'I wonder if he feels it. By the way he made the coup de grace I assume he doesn't.'

Matthew shrugged. 'He's a peculiar guy. I wouldn't assume anything.'

'He doesn't seem troubled. I envy that.' She smiled. 'Right, we should go to bed.'

'Yeah.' The man replied, the sense of fatigue returning to his body. 'Goodnight.'

'Goodnight.'

The candles were blown and they were in their beds. Matthew couldn't sleep, thinking briefly about the whole killing problem that hit a dead end and drowned in latter worries, and then about Shady Sands and the whole hero thing, feeling a bit flattered Sophia saw through his lies.

'I _was_ proud of it once.' A thought crossed his mind and he followed it.

He remembered it, it was nothing more than a brief thought he had, so brief he didn't even remember having had it right away, at the doors of Vault 13. He thought that he would be the one to lead his other two companions. After all, he was the Hero of Shady Sands and the one to have brought back the chip.

Incredible. So he _was_ a proud asshole somewhere deep inside.

He remembered how he mused after the raider attack that he was useless and returned to that train of thoughts, now seeing another reason for his sulking back then. The truth of the matter was, he was pretty much useless back there. While he was thrown into confusion by the attack Steven immediately took control of the battle, came up with a strategy and gave solid cover fire. Sophia took on the most dangerous job and approached the foe at close quarters. And what did he do? He fired away at the rock pointlessly, his rifle useless as cover fire. Granted, he did get that one raider, but that was thanks to Steven's instructions. It was always like that. He was the Hero of Shady Sands because Ian instructed him what to do and he was the hero of Vault 13 because his comrades held his hand all the way and even put him on the right course after he decided to work with Decker. Now, Steven was the survivalist and the strategist, saving their asses and providing them with food, and Sophia, as he just saw, was good with people, at least up here, noticing and exploiting any miniscule thing she failed to miss. He thought _he_ was the observant empathic one, but the honest truth he couldn't hold a candle to her.

He fell asleep troubled, feeling worthless and like the sweet embrace of slumber would be the only thing that can at least partially make him forget, for a time he wasn't ever aware of.

The Wasteland

2161-02-29 03:07 AM

He woke up with a jerk but without a sound covered in cold sweat in the Common House, which took him a few moments to recognize.

He sat down on the bed and thought back to his dream. Then he made his decision.

The cold air of the nocturnal wasteland brought him back from his sleepy mist but did nothing to remove the bits of the past and the dream flashing in his head.

He'd made up his mind. He wasn't going to use other people to fight his battles anymore. He had to leave.

Leave where? That fight against the Super Mutants, a shapeless thing he felt nothing about, was the only thing keeping him away from grim thoughts. Where would he go? What would he do?

It didn't matter. He would've been content just to die out here, in the lightless night unaware of his impending death until the bliss of the afterlife was his.

He felt tears welling up. There wasn't anything anywhere for him.

'_This_ is a great way to solve your problems.' A voice came from behind him. He turned around, startled, and was even more startled to see Steven in nothing but his underwear on and not even shaking in the cold of the night, like a ghost or an illusion.

'How did you…'

'Doesn't matter.' He said matter-of-factly, like he always did. 'Why are you here?'

Matthew cast his head down. 'Just let me go, okay?'

Steven just shook his head and said nothing.

'So what, you're just going to drag me back there and tie me to the bed?' He looked up again.

'You know I'm good at it.'

Matthew tried to intimidate him with an angry stare but he knew he'd fail at the very beginning. He cast his head down again.

'Why are you here?'

'You don't need me.'

'Not true. Go back to bed.'

His head snapped up angrily. 'Not true? Is that all you can say? Yeah, you convinced me alright.'

'If I have to convince you to take the only reasonable path…' He left the sentence hanging and they both knew what was left unspoken.

'I'm useless.'

'You're not.'

'Really?' Matthew snapped. 'Ant what fucking purpose do I serve travelling with you?'

'What purpose?' Steven considered the question. 'Without you we couldn't decide anything because I'm not good at it, you are a decent sharpshooter with battle experience and the luxury of having learnt while around some strong people, you're a decent doctor, as I gather, and you're smart. You aren't useless, you idiot.'

He couldn't say anything. If he was not staring at the sand he would've seen a trace of impatience creep upon his fellow vault dweller's face.

'For the love of Euclid,' he spat out, 'we're in the middle of nowhere, just the three of us, and there's no one in the world we can fully count on because we have _nothing_ in common with anyone under the Sun and the stars. Whether you like it or not, we're stuck together. You don't want to feel inadequate and like using people? Then make sure you don't, not run away and die in the godforsaken night!'

The brunette was frozen in the night, shivering slightly and seemingly absent-mindedly in the cold as he processed that.

'What if I can't...'

'You can. And I trust you have. You're the only bastard standing in your way.'

He still couldn't move.

'Turn around, go back to your bed, get some sleep, and keep on working with us on this tomorrow,' he commanded and then suddenly paused. His face took a faint pleading and melancholic edge as he finished the sentence, 'please.'

Matthew slowly looked up, shocked upon hearing that word coming from _him_.

'I'm sorry.' He whispered.

Steven nodded and moved aside, as if to let him through the door.

'Where have you two been?' Sophia asked when they returned, also awake.

'Something came up.' Steven said. 'Went to see where he was gone. It's alright.'

It was obvious by the look on her face that she didn't believe a word of it but it was also obvious by the look on her face that she was too tired to pursue it so she went back to bed and so did they.

Matthew meditated Steven's words until he fell asleep, completely confused about how he felt about things.


	19. Trails, Part Two

Yuna Sugurono was sitting on a chair in front of a computer in the spacious steel control room when she heard the door open behind her and someone walk in, a Super mutant by the sound of the footsteps. She rolled her eyes, irritated. He's coming here mighty often lately.

'Miss Sugurono.' The Lieutenant addressed her walking up to her. She turned around in her chair to face him.

'Lieutenant.' She nodded. 'How unexpected.'

The hulking monster ignored the barbed comment. 'I need a favour.' He went straight to the point. 'Regarding the nightkin Tabitha.'

'Rhonda Hightower.' Yuna nodded, remembering her real name just to spite him. 'I take it she's not doing well?'

'No.' The mutant replied sombrely. 'We programmed an eyebot to act the way that should convince her to join our cause but the A.I. isn't doing too well. It made her go on a rampage and kill humans.'

She raised an eyebrow, 'and you still want to help her?'

'As I said, she is very powerful.'

'Ah, and I suppose someone like me can perform the necessary upgrades.' She smiled devilishly.

The mutant sighed, 'the way I see it we're both fighting on the same side but we just have different visions on how to reach our mutual goal. So what if you do something for me and I do something for you?'

A flash of anger was obvious on the face of the woman. 'I do agree that you Meta-Humans are the next step in human evolution, but I feel inclined to remind you of my position within our ranks. Do _not_ assume you can look down upon me as a sensation-controlled lowlife you can play with.'

'Believe me, I didn't mean anything of the sort.' The mutant raising his hands in defence and taking half a step back from the verbal blow made by a gaunt woman sitting on a chair was an impressive sight. 'I am being honest. Our means may clash but I think the answer is in mutual cooperation. If we do both our jobs well the system will work well enough for us not to need to quarrel over resources.'

The woman squinted angrily at him, considering the proposal. 'I want a contingent of your troops to go out there and capture a town.'

The Lieutenant couldn't reply out of shock for a couple of seconds until he came up with a diplomatic enough answer. 'May I ask what you wish to accomplish?'

'Simple. We need to fund our outposts and your standing armies while we produce next to nothing ourselves. If we capture a settlement and take over its functions we should face fewer monetary problems. Furthermore, our Vision is that in the end the Meta-Humans will be a self-sufficient race. I believe the sooner we start gaining experience in the peaceful life we wish to attain so much, the better.'

'Sounds… rational…' The Lieutenant's voice had only the slightest trace of him believing it was anything but.

Yuna sighed. 'Our home is a sensitive place to our Order's future but at the moment it is overprotected. No one knows we're here and we have enough security robots hibernating that we should be able to deal with any odd passers-by. Furthermore, your scouts out there also do well to decrease a chance of an attack. I agree with the assessment that this place should be protected to the best of our ability but we're facing economic problems and the current circumstances do not warrant such a high expense. Thus I make this, my final offer.'

The mutant nodded, beginning to understand where the woman was coming from.

'Do we have a deal?' She asked.

'I agree personally but a matter like this is not something I can decide alone, I'm sure you understand.'

'I do.' The woman smiled vehemently. 'It _is_ a big decision with considerable consequences. I shall await your return then, and get to work as soon as we have a deal.'

The mutant barely held back a grunt but nodded slowly. 'Very well. Thank you. It has been a pleasure working with you.'

He left the room slowly, with the woman's eyes on his back the whole way, a sinister smile on her face. She just won out against that mutant. Damn if she wasn't feeling powerful. And, more importantly, things were shaping up according to her vision.

For a moment she wondered if she wasn't someone made for a higher position.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-02-29 11:07 AM

Sophia never really said anything about her companions' nocturnal escapade and didn't even try to subtly wiggle her way into the subject. Matthew was thankful for that.

Their second day in Shady Sands was a slow one. It was quite obvious that they weren't going to achieve anything by staying there but none of them was eager to leave just yet and in the evening that turned out to be a good thing, at least as far as their quest was concerned. As far as Matthew's feelings and preferences went, it wasn't.

A Far Go caravan arrived in Shady Sands, a weak and half-assed rival to Crimson Caravans following the recent developments in the Hub, following their scent through the new paths they'd carved like a dog following the scent of another dog. Alas, it was an armed pack of people anyway. And, fortunately for the three vault dwellers and unfortunately for a few poor souls, the caravan was three people short, a family of Rad Scorpions attacked them halfway between Junktown and their destination. Sophia haggled with the driver briefly and agreed on a price for which they'd accompany the caravan back to the Hub. So, it was security in numbers and bottle caps for that. Sophia was beside herself in joy. Matthew soured at the very idea of going back to the Hub.

'Tabitha is there.' He admitted to Sophia as they looked through the various items the caravaners brought to trade. 'I'd rather not see her again.'

Yes, that lie could work.

'What happened between you two?' Sophia asked, concerned.

'Stuff.' He waved his hand. 'Why?'

'Pardon me if I'm prying but I am rather interested in the people here on the surface, how they work, what they think, and I'm curious what mistake you made to turn a friend into a foe.'

No, she wasn't letting up.

'Ian.' Matthew sighed. 'Her lover. Persuaded him to go to Necropolis to help me.' He made a long pause and sighed. 'He didn't really want to.'

He knew he's going to kick himself in the head for saying such things but at the moment he just wanted for the inquisitive woman to just let up.

Sophia nodded in pretend understanding and dug into a small pile of clothes looking for something new to wear.

'Wish they'd brought armour.' She murmured under her breath. 'Had a metal set but left it behind somewhere in the wastes because I thought I wasn't going to make it back to the vault with the scorpion wound and heavy armour on.'

Matthew nodded. 'Never wore anything better than leathers.'

They didn't say anything and just kept browsing until Matthew spoke up again.

'What kind of people did you meet?'

She paused ever so briefly before answering. 'All kinds. Scoundrel. Mercenaries… Most of them wanted something from me in return for their help. Sex, usually. Or bottle caps.'

Her face got clouded somewhat thinking about it.

'Except for Katja, in the Boneyard. I was looking for any information regarding other vaults in the old Los Angeles and she came along with me on her own volition.' She took on a longing expression. 'She taught me everything I know and saved me time and time again. The ruins are infested, you know, by scorpions, pig rats and… worse. Anyway, she took a bullet for me, in the shoulder. It was pretty bad since neither of us were good at first aid. We were stranded in the ruined city and had to make our way back to the Library through infested streets and metro tunnels. She caught and infection, but pulled through, eventually. I stood by her side the whole time. When I knew she was going to get better I left her. Just up and left. Left a note behind, saying I couldn't take anything more from her. She… She's done a lot for me and I could not keep using her.'

Matthew nodded, understanding completely. She looked at him and caught up on that.

'You had something like that too?'

'Yeah,' he nodded slowly, 'with Tabitha and Ian. They are the reason I survived but in the end I felt so… unworthy of approaching them for help. It had its consequences, though. In the end, I was shown that I couldn't do shit without them.'

'And in the end you broke apart?'

Matthew nodded sombrely.

'Were you in love with her?'

Matthew's head snapped at her, taken unaware by the question.

'Were you?'

'At some point. I started off being scared of her. Then I started hating her. Then I fell in love with her. Then I fell out of it. And finally, we… She just became mad at me and the rest is… history.'

'It's just that you speak of her so longingly…'

Matthew chuckled to hide the fact that she was poking pretty deep. 'She's a good friend. She _was_ a good friend. Even if she is a wastelander and our opinions clashed constantly. I suppose… Maybe I should have left her when I had the chance. Before I killed Ian…'

Sophia sighed, looking at nothing in particular. 'That's the price, isn't it? For the water chip? We're nothing but the instruments of the vault.' Matt looked her right into her frozen eyes. 'Maybe if I stayed with Katja I would've uncovered something, but I ran away without any purpose and almost ended up getting myself killed. You, on the other hand, didn't, and you brought back the chip. You paid his life for it.'

'I didn't mean to.' Matthew insisted. 'They were all so good I never thought anything like that could've happened… I was selfish and stupid, wasn't I?'

'No.' She looked up right in the eye. 'The vault was.' She smiled.

He smiled back. 'Unfortunately.'

Matthew was stunned. The two of them went through similar things and thought the same… Except, of course, for the fact that Matthew is a bastard.

'You done?' Steven interrupted having just approached them from behind.

'Yeah.' Sophia nodded, seemingly happy.

'Yeah.' Matthew mirrored and took one last look at the pile of clothes and then remembered something.

'I'll take it.' He said, picking up a weathered brown hoodie. 'To hide from people.' He smiled at Sophia. She smiled back and nodded understandingly.

He was definitely going to kick himself in the head.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-03-01 10:12 AM

The man who ran that particular Far Go caravan was a red-headed dwarf by the name of Mitchell. He was a cheerful type and seemed to be liked well enough by his men, which was good because since he wasn't any good at his job it was at least some small relief that he didn't have a problem with his colleagues.

'It's a shame we lost Rosie, Mark and Elliott,' he said concerning his late employees, 'but since we got those scorpions at the end it shouldn't be a problem this time, right?' He looked at them as if seeking confirmation and Matthew barely held back a sigh. Having been around people as tough as Ian, Tabitha and Tycho gave him the ability to sort out the losers.

And, thinking about it, maybe it made him just a bit meaner.

The caravan sold their goods by the end of the day and early next morning, Matthew, Sophia and Steven were up and ready to leave, waiting around the cart filled with Shady Sands produce, unprotected and seemingly forgotten: the rest of the Far Go men were sleeping.

Gabe was the first man to wake up and come over. He was a man in his forties, bald, sturdily built, and, judging from the looks of him, mean in a fight with his shotgun. He strode over confidently and took in the sight of Sophia, her leather jacket giving him a rather nice view.

'Hello there, sweetheart,' Gabe smiled at her, 'you gonna grace this shitty caravan with your pretty little self? Well hot dang!'

Sophia adopted a murderous look.

Another caravan guard immediately emerged as well, a scrawny man in his late twenties with curly black hair and a shy disposition by how he slowly and walked up to his new colleagues with uncertainty, constantly keeping his eyes on the sand. He introduced himself as Jonah and gave Gabe's name to the vault dwellers before sitting down in the cart, staring into his hands and keeping quiet until Mitchell arrived, yawning and stretching but sunny by disposition even so early in the morning.

'Right.' He said and smiled. 'Good mornin'. Let's get 'ol Patsy ready and we'll get rolling.'

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-03-05 4:44 PM

It wasn't doing wonders for Matthew that he was immediately assigned to the back of the caravan to look out and shoot at the foes from afar, that is, to provide support fire, which wasn't anywhere near a decent combat role as far as he was concerned. Alas, he took his duties to heart, content to concentrate on them instead of all the other things that were going on, all making his life shit. Jonah walked alongside him, armed only with a 10mm pistol. It reminded Matt of the old saying, 'a pistol is a gun you use to fight your way back to your rifle', a good piece of advice the young man was clearly unaware of. They made their way through the desert in silence, until one day they came upon the ruins of a small town.

They were walking in between dunes that bordered the old, half-buried old world settlement and were eagerly awaiting for a chance to rest in the shade when an explosion echoed from the small town. They immediately hit the ground.

Matthew took a good look at the town, feeling it was his responsibility as a sharpshooter to see any threats before they descend upon them.

'Bail?' Mitchell asked his companions, completely at a loss as to what to do.

Matthew was watching the town intently, trying to make sense of it when he saw the air shimmer far away by the buildings.

'Super Mutants.' He stated calmly.

'Shit!' Gabe swore. 'We can't take them on!'

'Super Mutants.' Matthew repeated his words in his own head. 'Probably attacking some poor people trapped in the town.'

'I have fought them before.' He then thought.

'We gotta bail!' Gabe insisted, spitting on the ground and giving Jonah a hard glare, knowing that if he looked intimidating enough the boy would support his opinion. The young man nodded nervously.

'I'll turn the Brahmin around.' Mitchell nodded. It looked like no one was willing to just march on into the town so they turned the beast around and headed back towards the dunes for cover at double pace, Matthew fell back watching the town for any hostiles approaching them.

The sound of his rifle firing startled the entire caravan. They turned around, and saw him, his rifle up to his shoulder and his eye down the sight, firing three more bullets, and then a blue hulking monster materialize on the sand further away, lying dead.

'You go on!' Matt exclaimed, looking for more approaching foes. 'I'll catch up as soon as we're clear! There's Nightkin here, they look shimmers in the air! Shoot that sort of thing immediately!'

Steven nodded. 'Mitchell, step on it!' He commanded. 'The rest of you, get a 360 view around Patsy!'

Gabe frowned in confusion at the expression.

'Make sure someone is looking each way from the Brahmin.' Sophia hurriedly explained.

Matthew shot several times again as they kept going further away from the ruins, leaving the physician behind and invisible on the other side of the dune.

They'd made it maybe a few hundred meters when they heard automatic rifle fire from Matthew's direction. All heads turned but he was beyond their ability to see.

Sophia stopped. 'We should go back and look.'

Steven walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. 'We can't. I'm sorry.'

'Steven!' She exclaimed as if he'd insulted her so much she was about to punch him in the face.

'Sophia,' he kept his calm, 'we have to go!'

Sophia looked at him, and then to the dune, the choice obviously difficult for her. She closed her eyes and cursed herself, and then turned around and started running after the cart.

Steven spared a quick gaze at the dune and followed her, worry and regret creeping into his face.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-03-05 5:11 PM

'They're after us.' Steven announced as he returned from a dune having scouted back a bit.

'How many?' Mitchell asked from his position on the cart, urging the tired Brahmin to go faster and trying to hide his fear under a mask of impassiveness.

'Three from what I can see.' He paused. 'We might have to leave the cargo.'

'Sonuvabitch.' Mitchell swore under his breath. 'You sure we can't fight them?'

'We can't. They're carrying Super Sledges and machine guns. While we have an assault rifle, two pistols and two shotguns. Unless we find cover it's a bloodbath, not a battle.'

Mitchell kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead, as if he could wish this situation away if he tried hard enough.

'Let's keep at this for some time.' He said.

They kept going through the desert, painted with the red of the setting sun, and then in the twilight after the sunset. Steven urged Mitchell to leave the Brahmin again but he wasn't having any of it.

Sophia kept her eyes fixed firmly on the wasteland ahead, obviously regretting the fact they left Matthew behind. If Super Mutants were on their tails then obviously they got through him, which meant he was dead. She felt like shooting someone.

'He can't be dead,' she thought, 'he's got experience fighting them, he's smart… bloody hell.'

Matthew could be dead this instant and yet he might not be, and it was this uncertainty that was the hardest for her to bear. Even if he still lives he's somewhere god knows where in the wasteland and their paths might never meet again.

She gritted her teeth.

Mitchell, in the meantime, was hitting the Brahmin with his stick with increasing frequency, all of his mind on the road ahead, not on the vault security officer beside him telling him to let it go.

'We can't leave all this cargo behind!' Mitchell insisted. 'Come nightfall we'll turn a bit to the southwest and they won't be able to find us.'

'You're leaving trails in the sand, they will.' Steven countered.

'Hey, buddy,' Gabe butted in, 'Chief's right, we can lose them and if you wanna forfeit the caps then go ahead and run to the desert like a scared little spit-fuck you are.'

Steven looked at him as if deliberating where it would hurt the most to hit him.

'Fine.' He finally said. 'Sophia?'

She nodded and the two of them turned immediately north, splitting off from the caravan going east, afraid they'd be too close to the mutants if they turned to their true destination, the south.

'Wait! I wanna come with you!' Jonah exclaimed when they were ten steps away, embarrassed doubly because of raising his voice and leaving his comrades behind.

'Fucking turncoat!' Gabe swore as the man ran up to the vault dwellers without looking back. The bite obviously hit home by the way he approached the vault dwellers staring at the sand beneath his feet.

Sophia put a hand on his shoulder in the most reassuring manner she could.

'Good luck.' Steven said to them neutrally and they set off.

It was already dark when they decided to turn west, hoping to walk around the cursed settlement. They were tired from the day, both physically and mentally, but with Steven guiding them in firm steps they somehow kept going.

'You guys… think we're safe?' Jonah asked, too ashamed to admit he couldn't keep going for much longer.

'No.' Stephen replied dead-pan. 'But unless we can keep going for maybe twelve more hours we won't be.'

The three slowed down.

'We should still find some shelter, though.' Jonah suggested. 'At least we'll be invisible.'

'We can't be invisible.' Stephen replied. 'We leave tracks and there's little chance the shelter will be invisible. The best we can do is a defendable position. You worked with the caravans, maybe you know one?'

Jonah thought about it for a moment. 'Apart from the town they were held up in, no.' He replied. 'Maybe we can go there?'

'Shouldn't risk it.' Stephen replied, looking at Sophia, whose stare was still firmly frozen on the space ahead. 'Maybe there's some rock formation nearby, some surface where we wouldn't leave tracks?'

'Not to my knowledge.' Jonah replied, almost apologizing for there not being one. 'Can't we just sweep the tracks away?'

'It'd work if they weren't so close behind.'

A silence fell between the three.

'So what do we do?' Jonah asked solemnly.

No one replied. The young man's gaze shifted between the two companions but neither so much as looked at him. A few seconds later Jonah resigned and started just putting one foot in front of the other staring ahead as blankly as his two companions.

Five minutes later they saw a shape darker than the dark grey desert sand and wordlessly approached it. It was a gas station with three cars parked in front. They went in wordlessly and checked if it was empty. It was, both of hostile life and useful items.

'One of the cars outside is a Cryslus Highwayman.' Sophia suddenly spoke up. 'One of the fusion-powered models. If there's some juice left in the cells we can blow the car sky high, might be used as a defensive manoeuvre.'

'We don't have any explosives.' Stephen replied.

'All we need to do is shoot the cell, I'll show you. You figure we'll hole up inside?'

'There isn't much in the way of bulletproof walls around here but if we're invisible we can at least move around enough to not be shot. This, of course, is a pretty minor advantage against machineguns.'

'You'll need to go up on the roof to shoot the cell. Where do you think the two of us should be?'

'A shotgun is effective at short range so you probably want to get as many things between you and them and only shoot as a last resort. A pistol has better range but it might have little effect so I'd suggest the same. Aim for the eyes, probably, or joints.'

Jonah and Sophia nodded and the young teacher led Steven outside and showed him where to shoot to hit the cell and then returned inside to take cover beside Jonah behind the counter while the vault's security officer laid down on the rooftop to keep watch.

'You figure we'll survive this?' Jonah asked quietly. Sophia didn't turn her head to look at him.

'Who knows. We can but try, right? Give it our best?'

'For whatever that's worth…'

'Come on now,' she turned her head and looked at him, 'no matter what you do you won't be able to prevail with this kind of thinking.'

'And how do you suggest I remove that knowledge from my mind?'

She looked away, 'concentrate. You are strong and everything will be okay.'

They continued in silence, having said all that could be said and afraid the half-invisible mutants would descend upon them. Already fatigued by their running they struggled to keep alert.

Sophia's body felt like a string about to snap, probably because of Jonah. She knew for a fact that if it was just her, she wouldn't care about the outcome of the battle. She wouldn't wait for it in fear or try to run away, she'd just give it her best, telling herself that if she fails she'll be too dead to care. But now she felt responsible for Jonah as well. The man, probably her age too, was visibly scared and she wanted to do her best to make sure he gets through alive. It just didn't feel fair that he should die, it made no sense. He didn't deserve it, and it'd feel heavy on her if he did and she had to make sure it didn't.

Jonah was visibly trembling, his eyes shooting from one object in the room to another. She felt sorry for him and wondered why he chose such a lifestyle, but the answer was obvious from her travels: when people have nothing more to give in the way of payment for the bread on their table they give their life. Not like it's the reason why every mercenary is a mercenary, but it was quite prevalent.

Steven just laid on the roof in the meantime, thinking of the battle ahead, calculating coldly. The three mutants that went after them couldn't have possibly be all that's coming to them, surely they didn't form a proper strike force with just three, they would just be scouts who upon seeing the station will alert the main force. Damn it, if they could dispose of them without making a sound they'd have a chance, but gunfire and explosions…

Then again, beggars can't be choosers and Steven refused to dwell on those thoughts for another second.

Back inside the station the nervous tension of the two hidden there was about to tear them apart when they suddenly heard a small cling at the small utility room behind their position, the sound of a bottle cap falling on the ground underneath the trapdoor to the roof. Surely Steven threw it. It was time.

She kept her eyes on the closed door of the station, the stock of her shotgun pressed against her shoulder and her eye down the iron sight while leaning slightly from the side of the counter. Jonah was aiming his 10mm as well, with his elbows at the top of the counter, the gun shaking in his hands.

The door of the station opened and a strange shimmer in the air entered. Jonah, his nerves on edge, was the first one to shoot, firing wildly at the random parts of the shimmer, not really understanding what he was doing. Meanwhile, Sophia took a good look at the shape and deduced where its head should be, then fired, just as Jonah was shakily loading another clip into the gun. The strange shimmer seemed to shift in the air, like it was swaying from side to side, and Sophia raised her eye from the iron sight in order to better make out what was happening with the figure. Before she could react, Jonah's weapon went off again, as wild as before, and the strange shimmer suddenly took off towards him. She only managed to bring the gun to her eye for aim before Jonah's head suddenly turned into a cloud of blood and brain matter.

'Shit!' Sophia sword inside her mind and let her shotgun rip again. The figure staggered again and after another shotgun blast she somehow managed to hear the sound of a head being ripped to shreds. The mutant's Stealth Boy powered down, revealing the now headless opponent before it fell to the ground. The sound of the cars exploding outside rocked the dilapidated gas station as the female vault dweller stared wide-eyed into the dead body of the blue-skinned mutant, barely registering the explosion in her shock.

Only when Steven put his hand on her shoulder after descending from the rooftop did she snap back to reality.

'Is it okay?'

He nodded.

'You sure that was all of them?'

He nodded again, with less conviction.

'There should've been more.'

'Rest. I'll keep watch but I've only seen three coming from afar.'

'They could not have only sent three…'

'I suppose not. I'll watch out. You get on the rooftop beside me and get some rest.'

'Jonah…' Sophia said, her gaze slowly drifting to the counter, splattered with blood and brain matter, the poor boy's body on the ground, mercifully behind the counter and out of her sight. Steven gently pushed her towards the ladder to the manhole to the roof.

'It's okay, get some rest, I'll take care of this.'

Sophia nodded and followed Steven up, her limbs somewhat wooden. She lied down on the bare rooftop on her back and gazed into the stars.

'Do you think Matt is okay?'

'I don't know.' Steven replied momentarily.

'Only three mutants. The others… You think he killed him and then died?'

'I don't know.'

She closed her eyes, fatigue slowly taking over shock and distress.

'I hope we'll meet again.'

She fell asleep instantly.

Half an hour later Steven looked at her body lying down, then to the wasteland, and then stood up, went down the trapdoor into the station for visual cover from the wastes, produced a cigarette from his backpack and lit it, surrounded by the crumbled clutter of the old world and the stench of blood, half of it from a man who entrusted him with his life and the other half from that ungodly creature. He smoked the cigarette quickly, seemingly ignorant of his surroundings, and went back to his watch, a solitary sentinel on top of a dilapidated structure, just the way he liked.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-03-06 01:09 PM

The small, solitary frame of a short blond woman shifted between the dunes in the dark of the night, zigzagging her way from one high perch to another, frantic and doubtful at the same time, for she had a purpose and some semblance of someone to return to but in her steps she would often falter, wondering if she should go back at all. There was the sense of duty and there was the sense of survival, and the latter was taking a firmer hold with each passing seconds. Fortunately to more people than just her, she finally spotted what she was looking for, turned around, and headed back south as the crow flies. It was easy enough to pick up the trail, notice the dark shadow in the wasteland, and catch up. As she approached, the shadow turned into a row of ragged people, ten of them, tired, ragged, stinking. Three were wounded and have even started to stink. One looked like he did not belong. The woman looked him up and down as she approached him, walking in a hurried yet tired stride alongside their leader. He was a young man, probably nineteen, in a leather jacket which emphasized the fact that he was not one of the many starving wastelanders, though he wasn't one of the fist-brained mercenaries. His face, though weathered, was easy on the eyes, even when tired. Everybody else was practically bowing their heads to him but she could not, instead of the saviour she saw in him a weak man, she couldn't really explain it, but she did.

He said his name was Matthew and he was a caravan guard passing by.

'Chief.' She approached the man on this Matthew's left, a tall, muscular, bald Caucasian with a mean look on his face and a necklace of fingers on his weathered leather armour. 'I've located them, they're behind us, have probably picked up our trail. They'll be upon us within the hour.'

'Very good, Leanne, thank you.' The man nodded with a bit more courtesy than it would be expected from someone looking like a seasoned boxer. The girl nodded and fell behind to get some food on the run.

'Pretty, isn't she?' The man called Chief said, referring to Leanne. 'Quite the looker, eh? Though she needs constant control so she doesn't just do whatever crazy thing she comes up with. Watch over her, and she'll be a good wife.'

'Wife?' Matthew raised his eyebrows in surprise.

'She is my niece and you saved my people, I offer her to you in thanks.'

Matthew stared at the man wide-eyed. This was insane, there was this bunch of people, all wearing pre-war clothes, some even leather, looking almost like Crimson Caravan employees but in the brief time he'd known them he'd started seeing them as a group of survivalists halfway to becoming tribal savages, though still keeping the more 'civilized' façade.

'I thank you for the offer,' Matthew started, unsure as to how to proceed in this insane situation, 'but, with respect, I'd like to suggest that the matter of our pursuers has priority?'

'Has what?'

'…Is more important… At the moment.'

The man smiled, 'yes, I agree, you are perceptive indeed. You'd make a good chief.'

'So… What are we going to do.'

'Indeed, what are we going to do?'

Matthew was flabbergasted by the light-hearted response.

'I think,' he suggested weakly, 'that we stop, take care of the wounded, and then ready ourselves for battle, you know, prepare for defence.'

'Hah!' Chief laughed. 'You're a smart one.' He stopped. 'Everybody stop!' He exclaimed.

The train of people came to a stop.

Chief was now looking at Matthew, grinning from ear to ear, seemingly very happy at him and expecting him to say something.

'Right…' Matthew looked around, nervous. 'Um… I suppose… What do you want to do?'

'Just live.' Chief shrugged nonchalantly.

Matthew gritted his teeth.

When he fell behind the escaping Far Go caravan by the town and saw these people running out of the ruins and towards him, he thought they were caravaners, mercenaries, strong people he'd rescued. But hey soon appeared to be some sort of half-civilised tribals. During their flight from the town, their leader told Matthew of how their 'outfit' was comprehended in the ruins while moving east and they were held up for two days. He said there was only one way out, he didn't really say what it was, but it was too risky… until Matt and the caravan distracted them. The way Chief nonchalantly relayed the story of his people's suffering had Matthew worried by the end of the story. Just who did he just save? Their leader seemed to be a madman and his folk were dirty, depressed, delusional, or sometimes as cheerfully crazy as their leader. But they were people and Matt was glad he'd rescued them, but now he started feeling… scared? These people were insane and sticking with them would surely spell Matt's doom, they'd drag him down.

'So what're you thinking, Matt-man?' The Chief prompted him.

Matthew looked at the faces of the people. Most of them were staring at the ground, their minds somewhere else, and that somewhere else wasn't a good place. He thought about leaving them again. But then again, Tycho would kick him in the head…

Tycho. Tycho wouldn't leave them. Tycho never left Matthew neither. He took him in even though he was to him what these people were to the vault dweller, a liability.

'You don't want to feel inadequate and like using people? Then make sure you don't, not run away and die in the godforsaken night!' Steven's words echoed in Matthew's head.

Of course, if he wants to be strong, if he wants to be useful, he has to not run away, he has to stand and fight for it.

'Think, Matthew.'

'Okay.' He finally said. 'We passed in between two rather steep hills and left our traces up to this point. I say we split up into each groups, both backing up further from our trail and onto those hills. We hide there, and when the mutants enter the gap, we fall down upon them. We attack and kill them all.'

'An ambush!' Chief exclaimed excited. 'Wonderful idea! Huzzah!'

'Huzzah.' Came the half-hearted echo from the people.

'In that case,' Matthew continued somewhat more disturbed, both by these people and the situation this one reminded him of, 'all those who are wounded should come with me, I'll fix them up to the best of my abilities during the time we have.'

'A doctor! Wonderful!' Chief exclaimed. 'A good thing too! Our last one exploded! Hah! Anyway, you should take Leanne with you, she is, after all, your future bride.'

'What?' Leanne sneered. 'Do I have a say in this matter?'

'My precious little dove,' the leader replied with a tender loving smile, 'of course you don't. Now come along. All of you! Those who understand and remember what he just said, do as he said! Huzzah!'

'Huzzah…'

Fifteen minutes later Matthew, confusion and a tinge of fright threatening to destroy his cold and determined set of mind, was back on the hill they were to attack from, tending to the wounds of these people with whatever resources he had at hand, which wasn't much. Only a single person didn't have his wounds infected. Leanne was sat at the top of the dune, keeping away from him. Great, the last think he needs right now is some additional drama.

'They're close by.' She announced suddenly. Matt looked back to their trail. Indeed, the mutants were coming up the trail, visible even in the dark of the night.

Visible? Shit!

He jumped up and looked around, mentally kicking himself in the ass. Most of these people were armed with pistols and sawed-offs. Damn.

'Leanne!'

The frowning woman looked at him slowly.

'I forgot about the invisible ones. Come on!' He motioned to follow him.

'Where are we going?' The woman asked suspiciously.

'Some of these mutants have Stealth Boys…'

'What-boys now?'

'They're almost invisible. They'll be walking ahead of that group. We need to go up the trail and take them out without exposing to the main force that most of us are on the hills.'

'And why does it have to be me?' Her posture was almost challenging him to mention the whole marriage situation.

'Because you're the only one with a rifle here, and I suppose the only one with experience with it.'

Leanne inspected his face, judging.

'For fuck's sake, Leanne, I don't want to fucking marry you, let's go!'

The woman nodded distrustfully and followed him. Soon both groups were warned to wait before firing and the two young people were in position on the further side of the gap, down on their bellies in order to take better shots.

'I think I see them.' Matthew announced finally. 'See that strange shimmering air?'

'No?' The woman frowned angrily.

'Wait for it, then.' He said as he took aim, waiting a bit before shooting so the mutant would get closer.

He thought for a second about Sophia and Steven. Before deciding to give his all to protect these people he consciously led them away from the caravan's route of escape. He was hoping they were okay. He was hoping they'd meet again in this wild wasteland.

He smiled. It would seem he didn't want to leave them after all.

He shot and he hit, not a killing though. Leanne's shot followed almost immediately after and Matthew switched targets to another shimmer he'd just noticed.

The two Nightkin were soon dead and silence engulfed the two of them. In the distance Matt could see the main force approaching.

'Wait…' He suddenly said. 'They're picking up pace? Are they completely suicidal…'

Then it hit him, but not as much as it hit them.

'They wouldn't just send two up the road…' He thought. 'They'd also send more ahead and to the sides in order to scout a larger area. And these mutants…'

Gunfire erupted on both hills.

'Shit.' Matthew swore. 'We should help them…'

'And fight an uphill battle?' Leanne scoffed. 'No, thanks.'

He was taken aback by the response, but it stopped him and made him think nonetheless. She had a point, it was dumb to fight an uphill battle, especially with _those_ freaks and it wouldn't serve any purpose for the two of them to die in vain, that was only rational, but Matthew still had a hard time accepting it. This wasn't what he was going to do, he was going to do his best and save these people, not turn away because saving them is very hard! Then again, if he's dead he's not going to accomplish anything, and the more rational side of him whispered to him that truly being able to defend people is knowing when to charge and knowing when to do nothing. But damn, it was hard.

The shooting suddenly stopped, making Matthew's guts turn.

'They're good!' Leanne announced.

'Really?' Matthew asked in disbelief, convinced something is going to go wrong.

'Yeah, I saw one of them just pass by the crest, we humans won this one!'

Matthew sighed in relief but immediately concentrated again. 'Look sharp, this isn't over!'

'Not like we can do anything about it from here…'

Before Matthew could consider this, gunfire erupted again: while the Nightkin were attacking them from behind the main force travelled most of the distance to the dunes.

'That's why they sped up!' Matthew cursed, firing another bullet. The mutant force split into two and ascended each hill, the two people on ground level remaining either unseen or ignored.

Behind the rocks and shrubbery of the hills, and in the darkness, it was hard to understand what was going on, and that's what got to Matthew the most. It was a minute later that they were up both hills and the fire really picked up.

Matthew waited with his breath held, unable to discern in the darkness who'd won out. His nerves were on their limit and his rifle was shaking as were his hands.

The large frame of a super mutant separated from the silhouettes of the rocks and slowly descended the hill. The vault dweller felt a void suddenly open up inside him. They were dead. He'd failed.

He took aim shakily and squeezed out three shots, which, accompanied by Leanne's two, killed the mutant.

The two stayed lying on the desert floor, immobile, their eyes jumping from one shadow to another, looking for movement, or any other sign of threat.

Leanne stood up first, her rifle still levelled at her side, ready for trouble. 'I think we're clear.'

Matthew followed soon after. 'Let's go.'

The woman was about to protest but decided to hold it in instead. Too afraid to go on the hills where the slaughter just took place she sat down on the sand, willing to let Matthew be the one to reveal if the coast was clear. 'He's a strange one,' she thought, 'somehow not like the others… Looks pretty weak though.'

Half an hour later she stood up and went looking for him to find him stitching someone's leg.

'What are you doing?' She asked.

'Helping this man.' He answered coldly.

'Why?'

Matthew cast her an irritated glance and went back to work. 'Because I can.'

'Ah!' The woman smiled. 'You're one of those 'good' wastelanders, always helping everyone? Wonderful!'

'So what if I am?'

'Oh, it's just so amusing. How do you hope to help everyone here? I mean, how many wounded are there?'

'Four.' Matthew replied quietly, preparing himself for a verbal attack.

'Four! And there's two of _us_. So you plan to stich them up and… Haul them back to town?'

Matthew's hands slowed down.

'Didn't think about it, did you?' Leanne's smile broadened. 'You can't help them. Save your resources, let's just go.'

'But…'

'We should save ourselves. You won't save them and staying here you'll kill yourself too. If you're truly smart, tell me here and now what would be the wise course of action?'

Matthew stopped working and store off into the sand.

'But… How can we do this? It's so…'

'Come on, life and death aren't pretty, this is not supposed to be pretty.'

'I'll leave them guns and food. We'll be able to send for them.'

'Are you leaving?' He heard one of the men wounded men suddenly exclaim. 'Doc! Leanne! You can't leave us!'

'We'll send help.' Leanne replied firmly and quite convincingly.

'Oh god! Oh god, please don't leave us here!'

She turned away and started towards the south while Matthew remained rooted where he stood, his mind torn.

'You can't leave us here!'

They could. But they shouldn't. Matthew thought Tabitha would agree with Leanne for some reason. Maybe Ian would too. Tycho would shoot them in the face.

'We'll die! We'll fucking die!'

Matthew remained looted in the ground. He knew leaving them would mean betraying at least one of his old friends, then again, maybe Ian and Tabitha would know of a better solution and kick him in the head for not coming up with it.

'This is inhumane!'

He thought the last thing he wanted right now was to never see his companions again, because he felt he'd betrayed them and wasn't worthy of their presence. Well he was proven wrong. He wanted to avoid them but now he saw they were still with him, inside of him. They'd never do what he was about to do. And that's why he couldn't do it yet. It felt like another betrayal, one he'd perform without even seeing them but also one that'd sever the last of the connection he had with them, the feelings still left within him.

'Oh my god, please don't leave me here!'

A realisation dawned upon him. He'd never be able to be apart from his companions, at least not in his own head. He wanted to never see them again, but they were already etched within him, they were inside, alive, judging, shouting and turning away. He'd never be free of them.

Or rather, once he starts walking he'll finish it. He'll finally drive in the wedge so deep they'll break apart.

It was scary. He didn't want it to be so scary. He didn't think it would be so scary.

He felt like his body, his mind would just shut down. He couldn't do it… Could he?'

'Matt?'

He saw Leanne looking at him from further away, irritated.

'You coming?'

He looked at her, he concentrated on her, like a rope he was supposed to grab to drag himself out. He looked at the startled woman until there was nothing left in his sight and his mind but her and the wastes.

He took a step. Then another. A day and a half later he was in Junktown. That was all there was to it.

* * *

><p>They laid Jonah to rest in a hole they dug behind the gas station, or rather, that Steven dug behind the gas station as Sophia wasn't feeling good. Steven guessed these last two days simply got to her, what with them getting separated from Matthew and losing Jonah. He dug without complaint in the hot afternoon sun until she came out of the building, seemingly distracted, like her mind was in another place. Steven inspected the state of the hole and sat down on its edge, then produced a pack of cigarettes, put one from it in his mouth, and lit it.<p>

'A nasty habit.' Sophia said without any expression.

'You have one too.' Steven shrugged.

'Yeah?' She still didn't seem to hear him.

'You take everything too personally.'

She didn't reply.

'How long have you known Jonah?' Steven asked, but then continued not expecting to hear an answer. 'It's not like you know the first thing about him, but still: he died and now you're like… that.'

'Does it matter if I know him or not?' She asked in monotone. 'He's still a person.'

'I know and I feel shit about it too. But it's the wasteland, we pay our respects and move on, hoping we're not soon to follow them.'

'I know. It's hard, though.'

'I know.'

He took a long drag. 'Well we both know everything, then.'

'And knowing is only half the battle.'

He looked at her intensely, as if trying to figure something out. Whatever he was thinking while giving her that look he soon discarded and said, 'you figure you can travel today?'

She nodded.

'Great. Let's do this and be on our way.'

She nodded again.

He passed her by and when he was almost back in the station she turned around, smiled a bit, and called, 'Steven!'

He turned around.

'It's a _really_ bad habit. You should quit.'

Steven shook his head and walked on. Her smile broadened.


	20. Trails, Part Three

The Wasteland

2161-03-08 01:09 PM

They walked side-by-side, heartbreakingly light rucksacks on their bags, two silhouettes in the vast expanse of sand being bleached into nothing by the searing sun. They were silent, lost in their own thoughts, though they would often unknowingly think of similar things, things that happened or were made clear on that night, the night Jonah, the man of remarkably uncertain importance in their lives, died.

'Do you think Gabe and Mitchell are alive?' Sophia asked.

'You know I don't know.'

'I know but… I can't stop thinking about it.'

He shrugged and resumed watching the wastes.

'I mean, if they're alive, then we killed Jonah. _We_ killed Jonah by allowing him to tag along!'

'I don't deal in 'ifs'.'

'But if that happened, what would you think, what would you feel?'

'Nothing.' He shrugged. 'We did what we thought was right, that's all. Besides, it was _his_ choice.'

'Nothing, he says.' She grimaced. 'Sometimes I wonder if there's _anything_ you feel.'

He provided no reaction whatsoever.

'You know,' she said after a while, without venom this time, 'I envy you that sometimes. Not caring about things… people… it feels… safe.'

He didn't respond, only, unseen to her, the edge with which he was surveying the wasteland got sharper.

'I wonder if we would have saved him if we stuck with Matthew.'

Steven shrugged.

'He's good, right? And he has experience with these monsters…'

'He doesn't think fast enough.' Came Steven's reply. 'That's the most important thing when it comes to battle itself.'

'That's mean.'

He looked at her, irritated. 'That's just the truth, it wasn't my intention to be mean.'

'Hah! So you _do _feel something sometimes.' The woman laughed. Steven turned away. 'Although it's only when it concerns _you_.'

Steven stopped, his expression frozen on the wastes. Sophia stopped a few paces later and looked at him questioningly.

'Is this… You know I was just…'

He hushed her by raising his index finger and she went quiet and followed his gaze into the wastes.

She couldn't see it at first, but then there it was: a human shape crossing the crest of a dune and slowly shuffling towards them.

'Who do you think this is?' She asked, not being able to see the figure clearly and secretly hoping it's Matt.

'I don't know but they look like they're in trouble.'

Steven started slowly approaching the figure, his hand on the pistol at his belt.

'Oh! Steven! It's only a child!'

Indeed, once they were closer Steven could make out a sixteen-year-old boy in bloodied blue t-shirt and khakis, a small rucksack on his back, his face to the sand, the look distant, and the steps wobbly. He looked fragile, tired, and malnourished.

'Oh my god, are you ok?' Sophia asked with fright and concern as she approached the boy despite Steven's frown of disapproval and a battle-ready stance. The young teacher put her hand on the boy's shoulder and took his hand, thus finally getting his attention. 'What are you doing here in the wastes?'

The boy looked at her for a couple of seconds, as if deliberating whether she was a human or a beast, and then simply sat down on the sand, exhausted.

'I'm thirsty.' The kid said, dead-pan.

'Okay, dear, we have water,' she quickly drew a small bottle of irradiated desert water, the only kind she had, 'come on, drink, it's going to be okay.'

The child took the water as if it was some sort of treasure.

'There you go, drink as much as you like. What's your name, what happened to you?'

The boy drank most of the water in the bottle before giving it back to Sophia and answering her questions, his sad face to the sand. 'I'm Elijah. My parents and the folks… We were attacked. They all died…'

'Are you hurt?' Sophia asked frightfully.

'No… But ma and pa…'

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes and Sophia took him into her embrace. 'There, there, it's going to be okay. I'm Sophia and this is Steven. We're going to Junktown and we can take you along if you want. You'll be safe there…'

She broke the embrace to see the child's response, which was a slow nod.

'Great then!' She made her most encouraging smile. 'Listen, you get some rest and we'll move on when you're ready, okay? Take your time. Everything is going to be alright.'

The child nodded, said a quiet thank you, and lied down on the sand, asleep within five minutes with Sophia sitting beside him, her back to the sun, providing him shade. Steven approached them with a couple of branches from a dry tree and quickly built an impromptu tent of two vertical sticks supporting a sleeping bag. She watched him as he worked, impassive, except for his lips being pursed tighter than usual.

'You're showing slight irritation,' Sophia said quietly, 'so I assume every cell of your body is telling you to just leave this child behind.'

'He's not a child, at least not up here.' He replied while working. 'And I think we should go with him to Junktown.'

'You're saying that but you're thinking something else.'

'Does it matter?'

'It does.'

'You're lying.'

Sophia rolled her eyes. 'Yeah, if you think we should leave him behind then I'll argue with every ounce of my being but it doesn't mean I don't want to at least know what you're thinking.'

Steven put a couple of stones on the edges of the sleeping bag that touched the ground and considered his work done with that. He walked past Sophia, sat down in the small shade of a rock, produced a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it.

'Let's take him to Junktown.' He said with finality, staring off into the wasteland again.

She was about to push him further but gave up, the man was hopeless with these sort of things. She wiggled her way into the shade, beside poor Elijah, already in a restless slumber. She embraced the child with one hand and closed her eyes, finally feeling content. This was a child and she was taking care of him. She knew this, she could do this. For the first time in a while it felt like her life wasn't a chaotic, senseless thing.

Steven stayed up through the whole day and half the night, until Sophia woke up and took over watch duty after taking off the sleeping bag from the poles and wrapping Elijah into it. While she was doing that, Steven re-checked their supplies. He went to sleep without a word, a bit further away from the boy.

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-03-10 11:49 PM

Ismarc, the musician of Junktown's Scum Pit, was playing a sad, longing melody in the bar, which was engulfed by the same darkness as all the nights that ever were before, each following and followed by a day the same as all the days that ever were before. At least it was like it to him.

He knew the tune the man was singing and he knew he didn't get the words right.

'A cigarette that bears my lover's traces

A fair way ticket to romantic places

The playground's painted swings

These foolish things

Remind me of you'

An old and crumpled pack of cigarettes lay on the table before him by the empty glass of whiskey and his blind gaze seemed as if it was fixed upon them but it was actually blind and his mind was elsewhere. Or rather nowhere, lost in the same unfeeling monochrome his days and nights were now drenched in. He was thinking, at some point, about drinking away his meagre supply of caps and just dying on the street somewhere, or in the wastes. It hurt. It hurt a lot, perhaps, he couldn't tell, it wasn't a sharp pain but instead a slow crushing one, like finding yourself in the bottom of the ocean. It wasn't a something that put into words would make a listener feel heartbroken. It was just… heavy. He thought he was nearing resignation, a simple, painless state relaying the traumas of the past and foretelling psychotic misbalance in the future. Future. The concept felt strange to him.

He took a cigarette, leaving only two more in the pack. The eighteenth cigarette in his life. The eighteenth cigarette in these last few days. He heard it calms one down. He didn't know if it was working but he kind of liked it.

'You came

You saw

You conquered me

When you did that to me

I knew somehow this had to be'

There was no one who would help them. Not even the two of them.

That was the thought he smoked the first one to. He was shaking, for some reason, and it felt like his nerves and muscles were shredded from within.

He talked to Killian Darkwater as soon as he got here, with Lars, even with the strange purple-robed people that took over the control of the doctor's office one of the previous days. Everyone said the same: they are probably dead, we cannot afford to go looking. In the end they couldn't neither. They couldn't afford it.

There was no one who would help them.

He felt like he killed them.

He killed them.

He felt disgusting and disgusted at everything.

'A tickling piano in the next apartment

Those stumbling words that told you what my heart meant

And still my heart has wings

These foolish things

Remind me of you'

He was alone, with no one there to guide him or save him.

That was the thought he smoked the second one to.

He was alone and no one was going to guide him or save him. He was alone, weak and vulnerable.

But at the same time, there was no one who would meet an unjust death because of him. No one would take a bullet or a plasma slug for him. He would never have to feel like a murderer.

He saw it, finally: something. His hand, holding the cigarette and shaking slightly. There would be nothing to pave his way for him save these hands. Anything he would build would be built by him, using his own strength. Nothing would be forged in the blood of anyone else but him.

He was alone, with no one there to guide him or save him.

It felt scary. And good.

'The sight of falling leaves and the smell of roses,

The waiter's whistling as the last bar closes

The song that Crosby sang

Boo-boo-boo-boo-boo

These foolish things

Remind me of you'

It was all up to him now.

That was the thought he smoked his last cigarette to.

He was alone and he felt lower than shit. What would happen to him from that point would be entirely up to him, if he dies, he dies knowing it was his fault, and if he lives, he knows it was him that dragged out his life, no matter the toll. It felt scary, really scary, but strangely exciting at the same time, like falling down, having no hold, being in the mercy of gravity and the rocks below, but it also felt strangely… liberating. It felt like he could explode, or splatter all over the rocks, but it also felt like he was a turn of wrist away from wonder, like if he could somehow manage, if he could gain a single victory just for himself, it would set him free, it would make him strong, or, more likely, prove him strong.

'You know, we have to start moving south one of these days.' Leanne said as she approached the table and sat down unceremoniously. 'Or at least _I_ have to.'

He looked at her. She seemed normal, casual, like someone who was making a list of things to do in the future and trying to get it done. Like someone who's moving on, who has a life and likes living it. And, most importantly, like someone who can live it without someone holding her hand. She seemed strong.

She looked at him. He looked as if he was about to start raging. He would've looked inspired and determined to a more observant eye.

'You're still upset about that business with the mutant attack?' She asked incredulously. 'Seriously, man…'

'Forget the mutant attack. I have.' He cut off harshly. 'It's done. I'm moving on. On my own.'

He looked at her adamantly and for a moment she seemed to be surprised, scared, almost panicking, but she regained her composure in a matter of seconds.

'You sure you don't wannna go with me? Be a lot safer than alone.' She asked, as if not caring for his response.

'I am sure.' He replied with finality. 'I don't do groups anymore.'

'Suit yourself.' She shrugged and motioned Neil for a drink. Trisha brought it over, ignoring Matthew completely as her boxer boyfriend was sitting two tables over cupping his head in pain, and Leanne took a large gulp of the irradiated whiskey, sighing in appreciation, put her elbows on the table and looked at Matthew, extinguishing his last cigarette.

'We did the only thing we could've done.' She said, her gaze suddenly averting Matthew. 'They are dead and we are not. We shouldn't just give up and die because they're dead.'

'Yeah.'

'I guess it's up to us to continue our lives, extended by the loss of theirs, huh?'

'They relied on us and died.' Matthew dead-panned. She looked at him. 'The former was a mistake on their part, the latter – on ours. That's all there is to it. People die, for many pointless reasons. And we just live on.'

The image of a glowing hole appearing on Ian's chest crossed Matthew's mind like a ghost but he shook it away. The dead don't feel anything. They don't blame, they don't hate. The living do, but they're easy to avoid. It isn't like he didn't feel bad. He felt awful about it but now, like a revelation, a thought occurred to him: sitting on his hands and doing nothing about it isn't going to change things. Thinking over past doesn't change it, the only thing possible to change is the future, if one just sucks it up, gets over it, learns from their mistakes, and does their best not to repeat them.

Yeah, it felt like something he could try.

'Ain't you the optimistic sunshine of my life.' Leanne laughed, finishing her booze.

'Whatever.' Matthew replied standing up. 'I'm leaving. Got lots of planning ahead.'

'Yeah. Alone.' It sounded like an accusation. 'What if a lady like me gets lost in the wasteland?'

He looked at her and for a moment she felt cold.

'I cannot care about anyone else anymore.'

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-03-11 10:10 AM

The sun's rays shone through the ample cracks in the tin roof forming an incorporeal sculpture of rays and animated dust swirling in the air. It was hot inside the Crash House and the whole affair smelled faintly of cooking grease and decaying cloth, a heavy scent that in the blasted post-nuclear wasteland signified the existence of life, even vigorous at that, despite the sticky silence that hung under the hot tin roof, pierced only occasionally by the sound of footsteps in one room and a hushed comforting voice in the room behind the door the blonde vault dweller was standing by, leaning perilously with his back to the patchwork wall, his hands crossed on his chest, staring intently at the wall before him. He was waiting, something he was accustomed to. Waiting without any comprehension of the time or need thereof was his entire life up until recently, though this time he was aware of the passing time and anxious for the moment it runs out, not in a good way. The proprietor of the establishment slowly entered her own room behind the counter, her entrance visible to the waiting man, and gave him a brief smile. He returned it with a strange look, silent as the old building, pleading for answers or salvation. Her smile got broader and less sincere as she disappeared into her own life inside that room, oblivious to his troubles a few meters away. He noticed that and suddenly realized there was no visor on his face to obscure it and habitually adopted his usual look, as if observing something nice. Or awful.

'I'm not really used to this sort of thing.' He murmured as his companion slowly left the room and quietly closed the door.

'Come again?'

She seemed tired, but good tired. Tired while doing good. She was smiling.

'Raiders and survival out there I can handle but taking care of a child? Why is he still with us?'

'I knew you were against this.' She said, her comfy smiley fatigue mood invulnerable to his words.

'I was not against taking the child…'

'Elijah.'

'…Elijah here but now it almost seems like you want to… keep him.'

'He doesn't have anyone else.'

'Seriously.' His gaze tensed, signalling the gravity of her words to come.

'I could say yes to annoy you.' She smiled faintly. 'But I don't think we can take him on board to our little campaign against the Super Mutants.'

She leaned on the wall beside him adopting a melancholy, worried gaze. 'Do you think you can take _me_ to our campaign?'

He looked at her questioningly. She didn't move her head.

'You don't want to?'

'I'm a teacher. I love kids. I want to give someone a life, not go around blasting holes in Super Mutants. I would be a hindrance out there, but here… I can actually help people. Help society.'

He looked away.

'Well… I cannot force you to do anything you don't want to.'

'So this is it?'

'It's your call.'

She looked slowly at the door behind which Elijah was finally sleeping on a decent bed, decently taken care of by a caring stranger.

'Then I hold my voice for now.'

She slowly entered the room while he stood in the hallway seemingly oblivious to her movements. He only looked at the door after she'd closed it behind her, a long gaze balancing between what he perceived as a complacent life in the town and wandering in the wastes, the further chapters in his book of life that he felt destined to go through to reach his goal. The images, emotions and thoughts passed by in heavy silence of the hallway, invisible to any observer but Steven himself. He had a choice. A big one. He hated it. That was why he had already chosen.

In the room, she quickly fell asleep and dreamt of a garden of plywood, tin and sand, filled with kids sitting on the ground trying to capture every word she read from the book out of the air and put it in their heads. They grew like plants, or the desolate surroundings gaining beauty and meaning with every word sinking into them. She dreamt of this and smiled at the beauty, the growing, and the pure human joy of creation and meaning.

He slept alone and weary, dreaming of burning out in the wastes, the strength of the iron-clad linear life, and the catharsis of death and release, of all those things trapped inside him being freed and the endless waiting blissfully ended.

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-03-11 11:22 PM

It came without warning and without sense. Matthew turned his head to see the familiar sight of the old clinic, now run by the purple-robed people, lit dimly in an effort to defend against the late evening's darkness by a few surprisingly intact table lamps, illuminating gurneys with patients, one of whom Matthew was stitching up right now. The boy was an unfamiliar sight there – young, thin, teary eyed. The people in purple rose their heads as the kid started screaming, relaying aguish about dead parents and relatives, a disastrous mutant attack and being left behind, all of that to be blamed upon the vault dweller. One of his shoulders was lower than the other, dragged down by the weight of the 10mm in his hand, an almost unfathomable sight. The vault dweller found himself looking at the barrel of the gun, a vicious monster standing on his trail, another enemy. There was a noise and then a pain in his upper left arm, followed by chaos and screams for help as well as the child now shedding tears freely, holding the gun in his hurting hands. There was no one between Matthew and the boy, this was a one on one confrontation despite the sight of the child before him. A bullet pierced the floor beside him, shot from a gun that was already falling on the floor just like the child, a ragged hole in his dirty shirt on the solar plexus where blood was about to well. He lay there on the floor, separated from Matthew by his own gun, which he was surprised, but not unsatisfied, to see. More things came without warning or sense – the disappearance of the gun in the purple background, a needle in his arm by the wound, the stench and pain of disinfectants and the cool touch of the bandage, more screaming people, angry people, people trying to calm other people down and talk to him. It was all a dream from which he awoke in a small cold prison cell to wonder whether it was reality.

'Bad news.' The sandy-haired Mayor-Sherriff announced as he entered his office. The young vault dweller looked up from the old book she was reading.

'What about?' She asked tensely.

He told her. He told her and she just looked at her, frozen, the book firmly in her hand.

'I'm sorry.' The Sherriff said, turning around at the drinks cabinet and carrying the two shots of whiskey to the table and putting one beside the shocked woman, leaning back on the chair with her hands on her heart. 'I know it was you who saved him and took care of him.'

They drank in silence, the woman seemingly oblivious to the liquid fire falling down her throat, her gaze transfixed on something intangible. It was half an hour before she could speak again, and she did.

'There is no sense to it, is there? This whole conversation, me thinking about teaching children. What's the point if they go around shooting and getting shot. It's not like I can escape from it, it's not like any of us can escape from it, no matter how civilized we try to make the corner of hell we're incarcerated in, the wasteland still finds way to penetrate our sanctuary, to twist and deform what we love and see pure. What is human caring against it, that massive monster born of indifference and disregard, dragging us into the night and stripping us of humanity. I had a dream. I had a dream that I could change things, that life would be meaningful in this hell, I had a dream for six full hours. I guess I should consider myself lucky. And I guess I should be worried about paying the rest of the tax for daring to have it.'

'There is a point, if you make yourself one.' Killian said, his rural backwater twang somewhat softened by his pleasant voice. 'And we'd love to have you here, teachin' our kids. You seem like a knowledgeable sort.

There came a soft knock on the door, followed by Steven entering and leaning against the wall by the door. He nodded his head. She nodded back.

'Can I get back to you on that, Mayor?'

'Well of course. And if you need anything…'

'I have all I need.' She nodded courteously as she stood up, her gaze upon Steven. 'A friend callous enough to pull me out and a mission to take my mind off things. I'll be alright. I might even come back.'

The two vault dwellers entered the cold night's air, something relatively new and refreshing, an endless waste of black where they can set their anguish and sorrows spiralling into the abyss at least for a moment. Though what seemed to be a sponge of bad emotions for them seemed like a looming threat to their lost comrade, who was shivering in his cell, waiting for the morning to come and warm his bones.

'That was real, wasn't it?' He said out loud. Outside of his cell a young and unattractive woman in leather armour sat on an old chair by a small car-battery light sharpening her combat knife, the large key ring with hanging keys denoting her role.

'You mean you shooting the kid?' She frowned in disgust. 'Yeah. It was.' She replied, accusing.

'It all happened…'

'…so fast, right? That's what they all say. There's a gun in your face and time seems to suddenly start into a sprint, and God stands behind you to see the kind of man you are.'

'Well he thinks I'm a child killer now.'

'Nah, he _knows_ it. When time slips and the strings of life thin even a mortal can see men for what they really are. It is the time for one to be judged by all.'

He tucked tighter into the burlap 'sheet' he was offered and mumbled, 'didn't take prison guards for poets.'

'Didn't take doctors for child killers.'

'I have no ground to argue, do I?'

'You do.' She shrugged, her eyes still on the knife. 'But you don't. That's good.'

'God stands behind me and knows kind of man I am when I argue… or don't argue.' He smiled darkly.

She said nothing, concentrating on her work giving the silence a rhythm of whetstone being dragged along a metal edge.

'So what's gonna happen?'

'Men will let you go on account of you acting on self-defence and tell you never to return. Then you'll set into the wastes for the god to judge you.'

He thought about it. 'Sounds fair.'

'Which part?'

'The latter.'

She stopped her monotonous work and looked at him for the first time, seemingly tainting her eyes with the sight of him. 'A wise man fears God's judgement.'

'But God is fair, isn't he? Some men can take responsibility for their actions.'

'Indeed?'

He nodded and closed his eyes, shoving his hands harder against his torso for warmth. 'God can kill me for what I did. But that's alright. Either walk this torturous road alone or burn in hell… I doubt there's a difference. That's the kind of world we built for ourselves.'

'God's mercy is always close at hand.'

'Does he have enough time to judge me, kill me, _and_ have mercy on me?'

The scratching sound of whetstone against steel returned.

'I won't pray to him.' He said. 'I won't be absent from this world to knock on his door. I won't waste time afraid of making mistakes. I shall live no matter what and the day I die I will show him my life with my head held high and _dare_ him to make his decision.'

The sound stopped once more. Unbeknownst to him the unsightly prison guard was looking into her own eyes reflected on the properly maintained steel of the blade. 'One cannot live for God without actually parting their arms from prayer and living.'

'I don't think so.'

'First time a child killer gave me some good advice.'

He opened his eyes, looked at her smiled. She looked at him, not smiling, but without the hard edge to her gaze. 'It sounds unbearably sad.'

'It is.' He nodded. 'Everything is, you can't help it. But you can help yourself.'

He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, the prison keeper singing him a monotonous lullaby with blade and whetstone.

'Who are you accountable to, then?' The guard asked softly. 'If not God, then who? Other men?'

Slipping into sleep he murmured what has become his new mantra. 'I am accountable to myself. They say the gate to heaven is narrow and two people cannot go through shoulder-to-shoulder. We all get judged alone.'

'That sounds lonesome.'

'Only if you care.'

He went mad, he could feel it. Tycho would kill him if he saw him, killing a child like that and not even feeling sorry. He had to cling on to something, some goal, and if the hook that did it was madness, he'll survive nonetheless, so it works.

The monotonous melody of the knife being sharpened carried into his dreams. The sound was the only thing existing above the cold dark waters he felt were there. There was nothing but the sound and the water. And then it emerged – a white sphere of light, like a Sun, brighter than anything he'd ever seen or dreamt of, but still incapable of illuminating the vast black nothingness around it. But the waters, they shook violently, sending sharp ripples throughout its surface, as if suffering, resisting. The sphere slowly descended by the surface, its light seeping into the water, turning it from back to blue. The sound of whetstone still persisted and a shadow appeared in the water, ascending step by step with the rhythm. It was darker than the water and much colder than its depths. As it rose through the illuminated water's strata they were once again drenched in cool shadow and restored by the darkness seeping out of the waters below. The shadow ascended monotonously and rhythmically and broke the surface. It was the shadow of a human, and a familiar one at that. Still a creature bound in some mystical way with the rhythm it rose its black hand and held its palm close to the sphere, eclipsing the Sun and drenching the waters once again in blissful darkness of things being disregarded, of blissful solitude and the safe refuge of an uncaring mind. The rhythm continued, ingraining itself into his being, slowly but surely convincing him nothing is going to make it go away, not even the sun of the eventual morning. He embraced it. He embraced it and felt the cool of the water, drenching himself deeper and deeper.

'The one-scene wonder is gone.' Steven said softly as he poured another drink. 'Where are you now?'

She was staring at the silhouette of the bed he lied in earlier, the weak car-battery light failing to drag it fully out of the darkness of the night.

'A bit lost.' She said like a sobbing child, even looking like one sitting on the other bed with her knees to her chest and her arms around her legs, chin resting on the knees and eyes watery. He sat by the small table by the window, pouring drinks into glasses and into his mouth. He gave her the glass and she reached out for it like a child reaching out for a toy.

'I guess I dared to dream in this hellhole for a couple of hours.' She said quietly and took a sip.

He lit a cigarette. 'Funny how things – people – pass before us. First Jonah and how he died, then Elijah and how he died…'

'And Matthew.'

He took a gulp and sighed, chasing away the burn from his throat. 'What of him?'

'It almost sounds like you don't like him.'

'I do. He's alright, but… Some things just pass before us and we take what we take from them. And he's likely alive.'

'I really felt like I _knew_ him. Now he might be dead for all I know. He's not like Jonah, or even Elijah, he is one of us, one of our group. Or at least he used to be before we lost him.'

'Better not think about it too much.'

She turned her head and put her cheek on her knee, looking at him sideways. 'It's what you do, don't you? Put thinks out of your mind? You see things, you take what you need from them but never take them in because you want to leave room for… for what?'

'Doesn't matter.'

'It does.'

'Doesn't matter any to me so I'm not going to discuss it.'

'Fine. But I envy you that, you know. What were passing events in your eyes are now a part of _me_ and I don't know if I can live with it properly.'

'It's the wasteland. You learn to close up here and let the horrors simply run by you hoping they won't grab you along for the ride.'

'I guess. That's why I'm glad I'm with you so you can show me how. You don't cradle me, you don't say it's going to be alright. I guess that's the sort of people I should be around… Katja… my friend from the Boneyard… always said it'll be okay, always reassured me, always dragged me out of trouble when I was in too deep. I guess… that was detrimental. You can't have caring people surrounding you out here. That's why I'm such a load for you.'

'Having something unfathomable even to yourself burn you from within and trying to break free in a raging torrent is scary and if it wasn't for someone keeping you from actually doing it you would simply let it go and burn out, and even though it's what you want it is scary and deadly at the same time so I'm really happy to have someone like you by my side,' was what he thought but never said, instead opting for 'It's alright. Really.'

'Cool.' She smiled faintly. 'I know you wouldn't lie to me. You don't lie. You don't need to because… because.'

He nodded and admired the view of the stars outside the window.

'So what happens now?'

'I can't go without you because your strength and indifference is like an anchor to me, keeping me from being caught by the raging torrent of caring and its consequences, and no matter how many flights of fancy I get from random people, no matter how many strange idealistic nonsense I come up with, no matter what a mess I become when all that comes crashing down, and no matter how many times I am willing and wishful to repeat this process I must simply learn to walk before I can fly and it is someone like you who can teach me best,' was what she thought but never said, instead opting for 'Let's just go.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

The night, the darkness, was never a magical abyss to seemingly take away human emotions, it was always a cold and dark oppression upon the world where caring was a luxury you had to pay for dearly if you use it without many years of uncaring, building a castle for yourself that would defend you once you give away your heart. For most, simply marching without looking to the side of the road was the only option, and he, for one, took it gladly, already wounded by feeling. He killed a child. And he was off the hook by the time the oppressive Sun chased away the darkness. Just like before, with Daren, but this time he couldn't afford to care even if it was much worse. It was hard, but he managed. He was calm and collected now, like he occasionally was, as if the darkness was a part of his personality that emerged to heed his summons. He set off into the morning, determined and doubtless, except for that one small occurrence that morning when he was dragged out of the cell by a sturdily-built mean-looking man.

'Where's the night guard?' He asked, feeling he had something more to say to her, something important without which his previous words were like poison.

'He left for home.'

'He?'

The vault dweller took a glimpse at the small hallway, at the small chair the woman sat on and the small table the light was placed upon, only to find them missing.

* * *

><p>'Are you sure it's alright to just let her wander off like that?' A nightkin asked one of kindred, standing at the entry to an abandoned resort, a large building complex, the colours that once made it seem fun and relaxing long since faded but still serving their purpose to the wastelanders with lower aesthetic standards, even with the ever-growing piles of sand embracing its walls. The nightkin group was waiting in another ambush and Tabitha was wandering through the third floor of the resort with only Rhonda to keep her company.<p>

'It's okay, they said the robot will be able to take care of her now.'

The super mutant in question was in a bathroom in one of the suites, the plaster having fallen from the ceiling and covering everything, the tiles on the wall lose and the whole thing dirty and smelly. Looking at it she felt the memory from her life before slowly surfacing, first the emotion and then, ever so slowly, the words she used to use to describe them, which in turn caused more emotions and words, slowly creating an eventual landslide.

'We need to do something about this, Rhonda.' She said finally.

'Yes, miss Tabitha.'

'But what can I do about it? I'm just a fucking murdering bitch!' Her voiced raised in tone. 'A cocksucking whore who…'

'What could you do to help it, miss Tabitha?' Rhonda asked.

'I'm useless…'

'Is that the way you wish to be?' Rhonda asked, somewhat more quietly, if that was possible. 'Weren't you a splendid person before?'

'But I'm…'

'Who are you really? Think about it.'

And she did, and if the Lieutenant was there he would've been proud of her.

'These ruins are unsightly.' She finally said. 'They need to be turned into something pretty.'

'A brilliant idea, miss Tabitha! How should we go about doing that, I wonder?'

'We should rebuild them or drag stuff out and do other stuff with it. We must build a life for folk, not this… shitty-life! We must rise from the ashes of nuclear devastation with hands held together,' her voice increased in volume and she started to sound almost inspirational, 'for it is by caring for each other that we can take care of this world, which will in turn take care of us!' She was gesturing with her hands now. 'Only through caring, and not through indifference and selfishness can we rise again! We must all join hands in… in…' She concentrated, the word before her unclear like muddy water at first, before it crystalized into, 'Unity.'

'Brilliant, miss! Really, _you_ should be Rhonda and _I_ should be Tabitha!'

'Aw, Rhonda, you are so witty!'

'Incoming!' A mutant warned.

'You should take cover for now, miss Tabitha.' Rhonda advised. 'Do you remember when we talked about catching humans and teaching them to be good?'

'Yes, Rhonda.' The mutant confirmed like a child being scolded and quickly took cover in some rubble, no longer the inspired orator.

The approaching men were heavily armed and were on the lookout for trouble, alert from the recently escalated rumours about Super Mutants being active again. They treaded slowly through the ruins surrounding the resort and some of them even split off of the main group to look for mutants hiding out of sight. A distance from the main door of the resort they drew straws and only two of the humans walked in. The lead nightkin gritted his teeth and motioned for the others to come to him.

'We're going out.' He said. 'Get ready to power-up the Stealth Boys, we're making a semicircle through the north.'

'I feel angry when I do that.' Tabitha complained. The mutant threw her an angry glare.

'Just do it and see to it that you don't kill _all_ of them.'

Tabitha was about to say something but decided not to, instead powering up the Stealth-Boy she had attached to her wrist and running out into the wastes with the rest of the mutants, Rhonda falling back a little as it hovered close to the ground to avoid detection.

Gunfire suddenly erupted in the resort's main building when the mutants were still a hundred meters away from the caravan and they picked up pace. The humans were turning around in a chaotic scramble, ready to leave their comrades behind.

'Take them out unarmed!' The leader of the mutants commanded as they approached them. 'Use weapons for the dangerous ones!'

Running through the sand with the searing Sun right above her head Tabitha felt angrier and angrier with each step, and what was once a motherly chiding of children for not knowing what to do with their lives towards these humans slowly turned into anger at the ignorance of these people and a wish to teach them a lesson they wouldn't forget.

A human spotted them as they were almost atop of their targets and the caravaners started shooting blindly at the ripples in the air. Gritting her teeth and growling Tabitha drew her sledgehammer and swung it against explicit orders from the leader.

With a sickening crunch the head of the Brahmin that pulled the caravan's cart was turned into thin red paste and suddenly a terrifying, growling blue mutant was there for the humans to see, raising the sledgehammer again.

'You stay here and learn your lesson!' She exclaimed in an inhuman voice that reflected her inner rage rather accurately. The humans were stricken speechless and froze for a second, just enough for the mutants to swoop in and kick them on their backs and throw their faces into the sand. Seeing the humans fall down on the ground amidst a magical ripple or under a now visible blue mutant, Tabitha took a few deep breaths, content, and secured her hammer on her back.

'Take them away!' She commanded, despite being the new blood of the outfit, and then addressed the newly captured humans. 'You're going to get a lesson about your roles in a decent post-nuclear society now and I shall not hear any complaints from you, got it?'

The eyes of all the humans were upon her now, scared to death and confused. She just shook her index finger to them, scolding, turned around and walked back to the resort.

'She seems better now.' The nightkin leader admitted, amused.

'She's pretty good, she gave us a way to capture them easily with that stunt.' Another one seconded.

'I just wonder if it wasn't just random.'

The lower ranking mutant shrugged and secured his machine gun. 'I guess we will see. She seems pretty stable now. Kind of interesting to see things will unfold.'


	21. Trails, Part Four

A strong dirty hand picked up the battered pair of dice, the eyes distinguishable more by the indents on the roughly cube-shaped items than the paint. A breath reeking of years of booze and cigarettes blessed the unshapely objects before the hand released them mid-turn onto a piece of cardboard. The almost-spherical things swiftly made it across the board, threatening to steer into the sand, but due to the hand that gave them flight being skilled after years of doing this the dice turned around a hair's breadth from the sand and returned almost to the centre, losing speed and smoothly setting into position.

'Snake eyes!' An old man on the other side of the cardboard announced, chuckled, and spat on the sand. The hand collected the dice.

'Bullshit.' The man who threw the dice said, collecting the malformed objects.

There were more of these unkempt, dirty, stinking men around the cardboard and outside the small circle, their light rucksacks thrown on the sand signifying the presence of a camp.

'Five of them.' He thought.

One of the men was sat on the sand, leaning against a rock, sharpening his blade with a whetstone, talking to a rough muscular woman who was rummaging through her supply of bullets nearby, checking each one for something.

'Been a while since we had a decent raid.' The man stated, his voice deep and raspy, his tone confident and full of authority. 'Ain't strong enough for that really, ain't many of us left. I reckon it's just us and Shiv's crew.'

'There's Cutter too.' The woman stated, brash, as if contesting.

'Cutter's gone south, far south, tail between his legs like a scared pissin' dog shittin' 'imself over these rumours of mutants. He ain't no Khan no more.'

'Never was one, that piece of Brahmin shit.'

'They say he was there when those pissin' farmers took out Main Camp. Said he pissed his pants and ran right off 'cause he saw those weaklings shootin' at him. Left Boss behind and ran away.'

'No shit.' The woman said without interest.

'Yeah. He done us a favour though, fucked right off and took all the she-men with 'im.'

She threw him an angry glare.

'I was at Camp after the night, y'know.' He continued. 'Fucking bloody as fuck. And a grenade went off there by the looks of it. Lotsa dead folk.'

'Loot it?'

'Those pissin' dirt-diggers took all the drugs and chems, anything of value really.'

'Wish I was there.' She stated cockily. 'Woulda shown _them_.'

'Yeah, I bet.' The man chuckled. 'They killed lotsa good men that night.'

'Heard your brother was there.' The woman stated plainly.

'No shit that can't even take a beating is a brother o'mine. These folks right here, they're my brothers. As mean as a scorp and twice as deadly.'

'Never saw Camp after that night.'

'Aw, it was a right sorry sight, all those dead folks. In the end they couldn't take on a bunch of farmers, what a joke. See right here, here's the best o'the Khans, we're the survivors, them're just pissy motherfuckers.'

A shot rang out from the north and the man sharpening his knife flinched. Against his will his muscles relaxed and he lay his head against the rock, the eyes turning glassy, a red spot appearing on his chest.

'Fucker!' The woman exclaimed jumping up. Another shot rang out and a sharp pain erupted in her stomach. She covered it with his hand and saw blood.

'Shit.' Her knees started shaking. 'Shit, don't give up on me know you fuckers.' Pain shot out from her knees as they collided with the desert. 'This ain't fair, I want a chance, I want a fucking chance to fight those fuckers…' Her bones turned into gelatine and she fell on her side like a sack. 'I ain't even looked 'em in the face…' she thought as slumber took over her.

The old man was on his feet and behind a rock before the woman was even shot, a rifle in his hand, 'Move it, you shits! We're bein' attacked!' commanding the two younger ones.

A small cloud of sand erupted from the ground where one of these youngsters just stood as the two fell behind another rock together.

'It's coming from there!' One of the youngsters pointed to the north-northwest.'

'It's up there!' The old man pointed to the dune straight to the north. 'If those guys got any sense in 'em they'll be just beyond the crest seein' as there's barely a rock for cover here!'

'Awful quiet…' The other youngster observed. The man listened up. Indeed, their foes fired three times and stopped. The old man spat on the ground and peeked out of behind the rock, scanning the surroundings for covers these people might be using. There was nothing but sand around them.

'They got th'Sun in their eyes.' The old man observed. 'And we're in shade here between th'dunes. There's a rock here by 'ol Block, and another one on the west… Yeah, that's probably where they're goin'.'

The old man motioned with his head to the west and the two young men obediently pointed their pistols there.

'Now we wait for 'em to make their move.' The old man whispered, adjusting his position so the rock would be between him and the north-west, assuming the assailants were on their way beyond the crest of the dune to the next cover. The wide-eyed youngsters mimicked his behaviour. 'Come out, motherfuckers, I'm ready for 'ya.'

Another shot and one of the youngsters went down. The old man turned around. 'They're still to the north?' He thought as he witnessed another of his comrades go down. 'That's… insane!'

He quickly dove out of the assailants' line of fire, panting heavily after having brushed with death so closely.

'They took out four of us.' He counted. 'Two by surprise, two by… guile.' He spat. 'Shit, never thought they'd actually stay put.' He listened in to the silence of the wasteland, protected from the north by the rock, his eyes to the west. 'Shit, they can get me in 'em brackets in no time, I gotta find a way out o'this.'

His mind raced frantically, thinking about all the possibilities. From his experience he could tell that the sharpshooter to the north will stay put, waiting for him to break cover. If their places were switched he'd command some people to shoot him from the west, where he wasn't covered. But then again, he would've done that from the get-go. Or after killing Block and Skinny by surprise. These folks were using some strange tactics, as if they were amateurs.

Then it occurred to him that maybe it was just one man.

'One kinda rifle fire, all from the same spot.' A smile slowly bloomed on his face. 'A lone bounty hunter, and an inexperienced one at that… He'll stay there and wait for me to break cover…' he shuffled and made himself comfortable, 'but this 'ol man's kinda good at settlin' down and waitin'. Maybe he'll get impatient and go west, and I'll be ready for 'im.0'

A shadow appeared over him and his smile froze. There was a man right beside him, a young one in black jeans and a black leather jacket, a colour-bleached green baseball cap on his head and a pair of shades on his eyes, a 10mm semi-auto in his hand.

'Did he just walk down from up there?' He thought, incredulous.

He saw it coming, the loud bang. He thought his brain would splatter from that shot but the man opted for shooting him in the gut. The old man's rifle was kicked out of his hand and darkness crept over the edges of his vision.

'Crazy!' He thought. 'Never woulda thought of it… people these days…'

'You're one of the Khans.' The young man stated, his voice a cold block of steel. 'Seems some of you are still kicking. Can't have that.'

The old man raised his heavy head with effort and looked the young man in the eye.

'So this is how it is, eh?' He thought, almost laughing. 'He was there, wasn't he? At Camp that night. I remember 'em, watching from the side with my bum leg… not like I'd tell folks about that.'

His whole body started shivering and it felt as if every cell of him was being pulled towards the black hole of pain in his gut.

'I remember you…' He said, slurring his words. 'Now I do… The man with th'grenade.'

He strained his eyes to see him clearly but failed, his vision broken beyond repair by his own failing body, not that it would matter much longer. 'You've come a long way, kid, all cold and… merciless. She toughed you up, eh? The wasteland?'

'I've had a long life.' The old man thought. 'Forty-five years, grey and balding. Time for someone else to take my place… So cold, my body's like his voice… This generation… will be more ruthless than us.'

The old man slowly closed his eyes, slacked his shoulders and exhaled for the last time, dragging it out, riding the line between life and death. He didn't feel pain anymore, but was weary, like all the seasons he'd seen have finally laid to rest on him, hanging heavily in the air above him. He drifted off to sleep, the sweet escape from reality, constantly moving forward without regard to humans or mercy.

The vault dweller holstered his gun and checked the fallen for anything he could salvage.

'Khans.' He thought. 'They're still around. Disgusting.'

He paid no heed to the fallen save for the stuff he could salvage from their bodies. The bloody scene disappeared from his mind as it disappeared from his sight as he kept moving, as if falling out of space and time. He kept walking without any regard to that whole scene having ever existed, despite the stench of blood and death the small depression exhumed, attracting scavengers to help it fall in step with the passage of time.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-03-19 07:57 PM

The dead pig-rat-thing was roasting slowly on open fire. Steven added a couple more branches into the pit carefully, aware of the height of the flames.

'I'll put it out when it's done.' He said, without even seeing the person he was talking to behind him. 'We're in plains right now, anyone will be able to see this for miles.'

They'd left the hills and the sandy dunes and descended onto the barren, cracked plain that signified close proximity to the Hub. They would be there tomorrow. The sunset painted the whole landscape in a tragic, unhealthy red, reminding them that the world was an open wound. He turned around and looked at his comrade, staring at the setting sun impassively.

'You okay?'

She nodded her head slowly, a motion she seemed to have performed out of the blue, it being not related to his words.

'I ain't good at this.' He sat beside her, admiring the sunset. 'Just speak, get it off your chest.'

'It's not what I want to be doing.' She said, her voice coarse, as if she was close to tears. 'It hurts to live this way, it's not what I'm meant for. Killing… those raiders the other day… I… I can't get it out of my head.' She looked at him. 'How do you live with that?'

'My advice isn't good. I thought you spoke to Matt about it at some point.'

She looked away. 'Yeah, we did. He said it's good I feel guilty, that's a virtue but…' she cast her eyes down, 'it's not doing any good right now.'

'So he basically said that the fact that you're feeling bad is supposed to make you feel good?'

'You wouldn't understand.' She waved her hand dismissively.

'Yes.'

They sat in silence, watching the Sun slowly descend and the wind randomly build up and break down lazy clouds of sand. That moment, the world looked truly burned and Sophia felt dirty, covered in the puss and rotting flesh of the world, craving for a decent bath and a life that would never let her see this heartbreaking sight again, much less wallow in it.

'What happened to the strong, observant woman I left the vault with?' Steven suddenly asked, breaking the mournful silence.

She smiled sadly, her gaze drifting to the desert floor, trying to explain, or maybe realise, what the answer was.

'That was me after seeing home. After seeing a couple of days of normal life. After I remembered who I was and what I could do. I was just confident because I remembered. But, just like in L.A., I have now forgotten it. And I really wanted to make it this time, to be a reliable companion and a fighter but… In the end, it got to me… again… this barbarian wasteland.'

'You can be strong. You _are_ strong. You have the ability, you can be tough if you're not bringing yourself down. You just need to concentrate and let nothing sway you.'

'Easy for you to say.'

'We all have it inside us, you know. A creature that wants to survive. Some instinct that surfaces in times of need and helps us through the crises.'

'Yeah.' Her hand trembled slightly. 'I don't like that creature.'

'You can always just stop if you want.' Steven said, sighing with a slight hint of exasperation.

'And what would I do?' She replied, sounding tired, weak and helpless. 'Look around you, where can I find a place for myself around here? I'm a vault girl who can't just suddenly turn into a wastelander, to just do what it takes to survive out here and be able to live with it. The only place for me is the vault and even if I went back there and they didn't just throw me back out under with the same pretext, they'd just find another, because, ironically, Jacoren probably thinks I'm a wastelander now, a murdering bitch.'

'If you don't like your current situation, then change it.' Steven replied plainly.

'It's not that easy…'

'Anything you do changes things, you just have to do _something_. It might not turn out the way you want it to but there is a chance it will whereas doing nothing involves no chance of anything changing.'

'I'm too scared.' Sophia admitted, trying to sound plain.

'It changes nothing.'

'It changes _me_.'

Steven sighed, slightly irritated, 'I can't help you with that', stood up and paced back to the fire to roll the dead creature over, his back to hers. Sophia's gaze fell to the sand.

'Matt would know what to do…' She finally whispered.

'He wouldn't.' Steven replied, dead-pan. 'He's just like you, except he found some highly skilled people to help him out and fared better.'

She turned around and looked at the back of his head. 'You're _made_ for this sort of a hellhole, you know!' She exclaimed angrily.

His movements froze for a few seconds and he turned his head around, a half-smile on his face. 'No, it's the other way around.'

They said nothing else and arrived in the Hub the next day, the silence of that evening dragging out well into the day.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-03-20 07:13 AM

The lone figure approached the Hub at a cautious pace, strange thing in the wasteland where a town means better chances at surviving. The wind was dead, making the several lazy pillars of smoke that rose from the dark grey, almost black settlement hang in the sky without purpose, as if lost. The wasteland around the Hub was quiet, seemingly dead, and the town looked more like a ruin it was inside than a trading hub it was turned into.

Two pairs of Brahmin pulling two wagons, salvaged car trunks filled with goods and surrounded by small dots representing people, were lazily making their way from the main entrance north. Through his binoculars the vault dweller saw from the great distance what seemed like splattered blood on the side of the wagons, deducing they were the Crimson Caravans logos. He skirted around the caravan's trail, keeping a distance, and poking his eyes through the binoculars at the traders once every few minutes, his entire body tensing up with each glare, like an animal sensing a threat, his survival instincts kicking in more and more.

At a shorter distance he was able to recognise the smears as Crimson logos and the little ants as the Crimson guards. Tabitha and Tycho weren't in that caravan, though Matthew was able to make out some vaguely familiar faces, faded by time and more important events. He recalled, from that turbulent time he was thrashing around looking for a place for himself, a road, and the person he wanted to be, that he would be quite easily recognized, at least around the market. That was something he'd rather have avoided and that was why instead of walking in through the gate he continued his walk-around and entered one of the fields of withering mutated corn-like crops that sprawled around the town by a small path made there for reasons unknown. Mutant plants were a head taller than him and drowned Matthew in their humid embrace that filled his nose and head with the smell of living and decaying plant-life, a contrasting smell that he found undesirable. He continued along, the brushing of the dry leaves against his leather jacket almost disconcerting after days of listening to the silence of the wasteland and the wind, ready to jump into action should it bring with itself the faintest echo of a threat. He slowed down without realizing it and listened in, alert for trouble. Entering one of the safest settlements in the wasteland the vault dweller felt like delving into an unexplored cave, almost expecting to hear something like a gunshot or the squeal of a pig-rat any second.

And he did: heard a rustle in the field and instinctively ducked.

'Come on, Butch, we're done askin' nice!' An unexpectedly soothing calm voice came from maybe ten meters to his left, making adrenaline surge into his bloodstream. 'You're gonna tell us what we need to know and cooperate with us. Or else.'

'Please…' He heard the familiar, usually gruff and commanding voice of the Far Go Traders owner, only this time instead of throwing commands left and right it was quietly begging, making it sound like something dying.

'You have choice here, Butch.' The voice came again, almost friendly. 'You can be friends with me. I treat my friends fair and square. _Or_ we can be enemies, and I _have_ been known to loose my temper once in a while.'

A faint whimper was drowned out by Butch's frantic, pathetic yelling, 'okay, okay, I will, I will!' The voice came begging.

Matthew inched his way towards the voices and was able to make out four crude figures in the field among the plants, no doubt one of them was Butch, and the other three – his assailants. From context, Matthew assumed one of them had a hostage.

He contemplated helping Butch out but then thought it over again. He could kill one of them by surprise, maybe two, but if one of them had a gun pointing at his hostage the other two would be aiming at Butch, which meant their weapons were ready and they were prepared to react. His chances of success were low.

'You wouldn't lie to me, would you Butch?'

'No, no, I promise, I'll cooperate with you, Mr Markowitz, Sir!'

Ever so slowly the thinly veiled threats and reassuring faded out of eligibility and Matthew slowly straightened up and continued towards the Old Town which would surely be beyond this field. Another avoided conflict, another avoided bullet, that was the rational thing to do… but why was a part of him trying to justify it, wasn't it a given?

A shot rang through the field, making the vault dweller flinch but moving nothing, changing nothing, a distant shot and someone's life over.

'Could have been me.' Matthew thought, trying to extinguish that ascending feeling of shame. 'I avoided it. I did everything to avoid it. They didn't. It's not my problem. I mustn't be dragged down.' The feeling ebbed. '_I'm_ responsible for myself, I'll fail alone and avoid death alone, there's just me and no one else.'

He slowly continued towards the settlement.

'This is me, walking down my path.' He stated to himself with that guilt finally extinguished. 'That had nothing to do with me.'

The Wasteland

2161-03-20 06:04 PM

'So… this is the thriving hub of commerce?' Sophia asked incredulously, with a hint of sadness. 'Looks just as miserable as Adytum.'

Indeed the Market of the Hub was a filthy place, half-abandoned, with the only people still wandering its streets looking paranoid. This is not how everyone they'd met described it, and, unbeknownst to them, not how it was a mere couple of weeks ago.

'Seems they had a fire-fight recently.' Steven stated, looking at the wavy line of dots on the wall of the local trader's store.

'Dry blood over there.' Sophia said quietly.

'I'm having second thoughts about getting any information here.'

'Let's just find a place to sleep.'

An African-American woman was walking up the street in a confident, fast stride, the look on her face challenging any who would look upon her.

'Ask her for directions?' Sophia asked meekly. Steven nodded.

'Sorry.' He said, motioning to the woman. She stopped and put her hands on her sides, not that far away from the .44 in its holster tied to the belt loop of the trench-coat.

'Yeah?' She asked, as if disagreeing.

'We're… looking for a place to stay?'

'Over there.' She said strongly, motioning to an old building with the Maltese Falcon sign on top of it. 'The owner's dead, you can hole up in there for the night, though you may find yourself on the wrong end of a shotgun should anyone come to claim it in the night and decide to collect tax. But it's pretty clean. Otherwise you can squat in the ruins south of the Bank, but it won't improve your chances of not being stabbed in the night much.'

'Truly a desert oasis…' Sophia remarked under her breath. The woman snapped her head at her and gave her an icy pointed glare that made the young woman take a step back.

'We have fallen on hard times.' The woman stated, leaving no room for argument or debate. 'And we're tryin' to pull our shit together; if you wanna complain about there not being a red carpet as a welcome I can take you to a place you'll find a lot more things to complain about and take your inner bitch out for a walk.'

Sophia wanted to say sorry, but not even so much as a whimper came out of her mouth.

'Any way we could help?' Steven asked, seemingly unphased. 'We're looking for work.'

Her gaze drifted to him and adopted a hint of curiosity.

'No.' She said with somewhat less intimidation. 'Money's short, just like trust. I suggest you rest up and go.'

'Is there anyone we could ask a couple of questions to? About some of the settlements around.'

'Yeah, any damn person working with the caravans. No one's gonna give you a minute of their day though with all the shit that's hit the fan, so good luck.'

She looked about ready to walk on by but Steven spoke up again, 'Are you working with the caravans?'

Sophia silently prayed the woman would ignore her rock-headed companion and walk on by. She was unlucky though.

'Yeah.' The woman replied, even more amused. 'But I can't help you. I'm new.'

She looked Steven up and down.

'Tell 'ya what, come by Crimson Caravans tomorrow, maybe I can get someone to help you.'

'Will do. Thank you.'

The woman nodded and gave a half-smile before walking away in that same tough-woman stride.

'Are you insane?' Sophia asked when she was out of the earshot, still whispering in fear. 'Why did you push her like that?'

'I was only talking…' Steven replied, genuinely confused.

'She had no patience for us and you were pushing it! I honestly thought she was going to take us out just for kicks!'

'_I_ did nothing to cause such a response.' He replied calmly. 'It's getting late. Shall we go?'

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-03-20 12:06 AM

The room was as cramped as ever, filled with objects giving off a stench of mould and decay, and the air itself filled with the stench of another kind of decay – a ghoul. The air was made that much more heavy and choking with the Brahmin fat candle lighting it up. The owner, Harold the Ghoul, was sat on his bed, and his guest, the vault dweller, was sat on the bench by the door again, a bottle of Scotch between them.

'Markowitz?' The old ghoul wheezed. 'Could tell you a lot about it but I don't reckon it will matter much in the long run. Just another asshole trying to get a hold of power. He's up against worse than him.'

'What exactly's been going down since I left?' Matthew asked with little interest.

'Well, Daren and Decker dyin' and Rhonda Hightower disappearin' left behind a lot of empty space and people've been rushin' to fill it up: traders and criminals alike, expandin' their businesses or tryin' to rebuild the Underground… Hard to tell which 'uns which really, everyone's been… hirin' thugs, intimidatin', extortin'… Fights even broke out on the streets…'

'Naturally.' Matthew shrugged, impassive. 'It's all predictable, within the basic laws of society.' And then he added, 'still sucks, though.'

'Been pretty rough on the people, yeah.'

'Though I don't think this area's seen any trouble.'

Harold let out a wheezing laugh. 'You'd think? First we've been gettin' people who had everything taken away from them flockin' in, fightin' over space… then we had that fight at the Thieves Guild next door and a couple more fights in the surroundin' buildings. There are a couple o'shops set up here that ain't runnin' a perfectly legal business, if you know what I mean, and they've seen people tryin' to involve them in their fights, like Jacob for one, he's a gun merchant, and everyone's been tryin' to get him on their side. He's too tough for 'em though, enough firepower to go after the Devil 'imself, and no relatives in the Hub, the man has no weakness but a shell to his shop.'

Jacob had no one, of course he was strong. Butch has someone… _had_, probably.

'It's a mess alright, would probably be best if Jacob's arms remained out of their reach…' Matthew pondered aloud, treating it like a game.

'Yeah, the caravans have been the only ones lookin' for peace… Well, 'cept for the Water Merchants people, they've been at everyone's throats lately. And they've got all the water, if they decide to refuse anyone from it, all hell will break lose, you mark my words. Someone's gonna be out for their blood, then someone else'll be out for _their _blood once the battle's over… Seen it happen before, too. How do you think that squat south of the Market is so crappy when buildin's around it are pretty well off?'

Matthew nodded noncommittally, numb to the troubles of the others.

'Far Go's been tryin' to keep the peace 'round here but they ain't got enough power to stand for long. Crimson's got their back and they're armed, trained and strong. Really the last hope for a peaceful end to this and they've been doin' their best despite their efforts hurtin' their wallet.'

Harold looked at Matthew's face looking for an expression, a hint of an expression, something to tell him he actually remembered.

'You had… probably still have… good friends in Crimson, right?'

Matthew looked at him, almost drowsily. '_Had_, I guess. It's all over.'

'Y'had a fight? Ain't heard nothin' 'bout it.'

'No… We've just grown apart. At least I did. I don't know if they've ever really been _with _me the whole time.'

'After all the four… three of 'ya have been through?'

He felt it, a ting of guilt, maybe longing inside him, and that other thing in the shadows underneath it, the weight, the burn… the fear. The feeling of inadequacy, guilt of leading people to death, helplessness… All these things he's been trying to cope with while they were all together. No. No, he can't…

'That's how life goes.' Was his sombre reply. 'People grow apart.'

'They need you, Matthew, they really do.'

'And what good can I do?'

'You might not think it… but your presence there would be a reassurance to all people on their side and these underground types pretty much fear you. You might not know it but you have a reputation here, kinda like a…'

'Don't.' Matthew interrupted him harshly, staring intently at the stack of old magazines on the floor, as if trying to incinerate them, and making a pretty good effort.

But Matthew was needed here. It was only natural that he'd come to his friends' aid at their time of need, he only needed… some pushing. Harold didn't really want to bring that out but Matthew was _really_ needed here.

'Besides, it can be a way for you to make up for your wrongs… in more ways than one.'

It took a second for Matthew to discover the hidden message in that and his head snapped back as he did, his eyes regarding Harold with a flurry emotion… anger, fear, shame, regret… his gaze drifted off the ghoul again and the old-timer saw it all get swallowed up, all of these emotions visible so clearly in the young man's eyes disappeared, like he somehow submerged them in dark waters inside him.

…That was _not _good.

'I suppose…' Matt finally replied, coarse. 'I'll think about it, okay?'

'No need to ask me.' The ghoul attempted a smile. 'It's all up to you, young'un.'

Matthew sighed, troubled and tired, his gaze still averting the ghoul.

'You tired? You can sleep right here, not like I need to sleep much anyway and I feel like goin' on a stroll.'

Matthew nodded slowly and the ghoul nodded firmly back. 'Right then.' He stood up from the bed not without effort and the man rose from the bench, seemingly a lot more tired than when he came in.

''Night.' Harold said.

Matthew looked the ghoul in the eye as he brushed by him, and the old ghoul took the chance to look in his eyes and see what he was thinking.

His eyes were ice, cold and bitter frost struggling to break free from whatever iceberg he was molten into and ride the current as far away as possible.

As the man lied down and the ghoul left a simple thought crossed his mind, 'He's not coming back.' It was a fact.

The bed he found empty when he returned at five in the morning confirmed that.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-03-20 11:44 AM

The woman in the trench coat led the two vault dwellers through a hallway in the Crimson Caravans HQ almost lazily, showing just how relaxed she was here when compared to yesterday. She was even smiling a bit but Sophia knew better than to assume she's no longer a threat. Even the mental image of her angry glare from yesterday gave her the shivers.

The small room the woman took them into was occupied by a tired but confident-looking young woman who introduced herself as Keri Romara. They sat down, the woman and her friend on the bed and Sophia on a chair by a small table, Steven opting to lean against the wall idly.

'Keri… and I'm Tabitha by the way… doesn't go out on trips so much because she's the owner's daughter, but she'd heard _all_ of the rumours about all the places around and she's smart enough to tell fact from fiction.'

'What do you want to hear about?' Keri asked evenly.

'Well… We're on a quest, sort of…' Sophia started uncertainly. 'We've been… tasked… to see if we can't destroy the super mutants…'

The woman, Tabitha, smirked, obviously finding the notion amusing. Sophia couldn't lose the feeling she knew this woman from somewhere.

'A noble goal…' Tabitha laughed cynically, 'and don't take it wrong, that'd do a lot of good but… really now, just two people? We've been hard-pushed to defend ourselves against these mutants and we had way more people than just you two.'

'We're trying to get some information about them first.' Steven said, seeing Sophia taken aback and unable to speak. Shit. 'Any idea where they're coming from?'

'No. Sorry.' Tabitha said plainly. 'They've been elusive. Either invisible or ripping anyone trying to find them into pieces.'

'You haven't really been trying that hard, have you?' Steven asked, making Sophia tense visibly. 'I mean, with all the trouble you said you've been having?'

'True.' Keri replied evenly, like a bartering businesswoman. 'But I think we wouldn't be that effective against them. We didn't _prove_ effective against them earlier when we went for an all-out hunt for them, before shit hit the fan. We were just able to kill off some of the mutants in the immediate area with major losses.'

'Yeah, was a good team too.' Tabitha seconded. 'Three good fighters from the caravans, Keri here, a Desert Ranger, the… Hero of Shady Sands and... Ian.' She said the last name quietly.

Sophia's eyes went wide. 'Matthew?' She remembered now, the conversation with Matt… of course, _that's_ who this woman was…

Tabitha's eyes narrowed. 'You know him?'

Sophia's jaw slacked, unable to find a convincing answer, and Steven thankfully spoke up before the situation became too awkward. 'Sophia here _loves_ tales about heroes. We've been in Shady, heard about the Hero… and Ian too. Sorry.'

'Yeah…' Sophia muttered, her heart in her throat, 'You… you're Tabitha, you went… along with him on that Khan mission, didn't you?'

Mistaking her nervous mutterings for being shocked and humbled Tabitha simply nodded, already disliking this newcomer. 'Yeah, long time ago. Feels like in a past life…' Her gaze adopted a curious emotion, bitter defiance, covering… Sophia looked harder at it… sadness. Deep sadness underneath. It barely even registered to her, but that moment her mind, numbed and, after having been idle due to all she'd seen after returning to the wasteland, started up again, like an engine that hasn't been used since the bombs.

'They say the Hero… Matthew… Killed at least a dozen raiders!' Sophia smiled, suddenly experiencing a rush of courage and doing the enamoured fan role.

Tabitha gave her an angry glare that almost put a stop to all that.

'Don't believe everything anyone says.' Tabitha said bitterly, her gaze and tone threatening. 'It's not like he did it alone.'

Keri looked at her friend with a concerned look, and Sophia didn't fail to notice it. Intriguing.

'As much fun as you might be having, Sophia,' Steven suddenly interrupted, 'we came here for other reasons.'

'Yeah, sorry…' She did the scolded child act.

'Anyway,' Steven continued, 'we'd heard a few rumours and we're interested about your opinions of them.'

'Alright…' Keri nodded. 'Can't see any harm in helping such a cause.'

'We've heard about their activities in the Boneyard.' Steven started. 'Seen them myself over there some time ago.'

'Couldn't say.' Keri shrugged. 'None of our caravans ever encountered them out there… at least until the situation escalated over _here_.'

'Though some of the caravaners that returned said going over there was a break from being afraid of the mutants.' Tabitha noted.

Steven nodded. 'Then perhaps it isn't their base. And the geography suggests the Hub is closer to their centre of activities than the Boneyard… But it doesn't mean they have no presence there…'

'Did you see them in the ruins or outside?' Tabitha asked.

'Near the edge, from a tall building at a distance, walking towards downtown.'

'The mutants don't come even close to the town over here.' Keri noted. 'Though there's really not many differences between the wasteland and most of the Boneyard, they're both uncivilized areas.'

'Except the ruins are being scavenged, easier to sneak up on people and capture them that way.' Tabitha noticed.

'Capture?' The vault dwellers asked simultaneously.

'Yeah.' Tabitha said impassively. 'Found a dead mutant with a recording of a report to its superiors, it was clear in it that they were aiming to capture people.'

The vault dwellers needed a few seconds to chew this information.

'We've also heard they had quite a presence inside Necropolis…' Sophia offered.

'They have no interest in ghouls.' Tabitha said, her gaze somewhere far away. 'Except maybe maiming them.'

Necropolis was where her lover, Ian was killed, Sophia recalled. That's the reason for that look. But then again… there was something in the way she said it that suggested there was more than just her grieving for her lover behind that look.

'So an outpost.' Steven deduced. 'Finally, we've heard the Brotherhood of Steel might have something to do with it.'

'Impossible.' Keri dead-panned. 'One of our traders _saw_ these mutants fight with the Brotherhood. They covet technology, nothing to do with mutants.'

'What do you know about them?' Sophia asked.

'Not much. They are very insular and trade low-tech equipment for some food. I heard they hoard technology to keep them away from others, but why exactly, I don't know.'

'But if they're high-tech, they should be able to help?'

'You can't get in. They don't even let traders inside the bunker, make them sleep in the wasteland.'

'We've got a way.'

Keri's interest was piqued.

'I've been through there once, apparently, they allow new recruits, but only if they do something for them. They said a small group of them split off and went to the Glow and they want to find out what happened to them.'

Keri frowned, 'I wouldn't suggest doing that. It's probably a way to get rid of pesky people trying to join.'

'Thought so too. But we have to try.'

Sophia couldn't help but notice how much alike Keri and Steven were.

'We can give you the location, but it's very far away and radioactive.'

'Heard as much.' Steven nodded. 'We'll prepare accordingly.'

Tabitha looked at Steven in a strange way, like she was somewhat amused. 'Do you have the caps for it?'

The two vault dwellers looked at each other. 'Not really, that's why asked about a job.'

'Money's tight right now what with us being afraid to send good men away on caravan runs while it's so dangerous back here.' Tabitha dead-panned. 'But there's one thing you could help with, and I think you're gonna get paid.'

'Think?' Steven asked, rather bluntly. That elicited a smile form Tabitha.

'Butch, the leader of Far Go traders, was harassed by one of the people causing the ruckus around here. They killed his daughter.' Tabitha said. A shiver suddenly ran through Sophia. 'He's in shock and wouldn't tell us where it was. We need someone to find the girl so she could be buried properly.'

'I see.' Steven nodded. 'If nothing else we'll at least help you by not making you stretch your forces even more.'

Tabitha laughed, 'that's sly. Okay. _If_ you can find her.'

Sophia looked at the woman. How could she be laughing, she's talking about a dead girl, damn it!

'Butch returned to his office from the Old Town way.' Keri said. 'Stands to reason it took place somewhere around there.'

'Shots going off in there is no news,' Tabitha added, 'asking around won't do any good, probably.'

Steven nodded. 'We'll look into it. Thank you.'

'Thank _you_,' Tabitha smiled, standing up and extending her hand. Steven shook it, making anger flare through Sophia. 'The Hub has a way of getting a lot of kindness from strangers.'

Steven nodded. Sophia stood up. 'Thank you very much. We'll hopefully return with good news.'

Tabitha nodded, no smile on her face this time. Bitch.

The two left the office and started towards the east, seeing no sense in pushing back getting to work.

'That woman seemed quite into you.' Sophia noted, a tinge of anger in her voice. 'Figures, though. She's friends with that Keri woman who's completely cold, and the two of you are very much alike. Guess you can always fuck her and steal shit from her room if bad comes to worse.'

Steven rolled his eyes, looking irritated. Knowing him, Sophia deduced she made him furious, so they continued in silence.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-03-21 01:27 PM

The ruins surrounding the Hub were brittle carcasses of cheap buildings that barely withstood the test of time, only sections of them surviving. One particular ruin of what was probably once a two-story suburban residential, the biggest part of it still standing was the corner of first and second story, the wall surviving a meter to the left from the corner and about three to the right, a section of the second story floor hanging precariously above the garbage below. Matthew looked over it all and turned around. Within two minutes he'd piled a couple of old tables and chairs and climbed up, hugging the wall as the floor crumbled under his feet as he jumped up. He stayed still for a couple of seconds, making sure he wasn't falling down, then he inched his way to the second story window and sat on the sill, drawing his hunting rifle and looking out east through the scope.

A pretty large farmhouse built of scrap stood a couple hundred meters away, the fields sprawling even further east. With the noon's Sun blocked by his baseball cap Matthew slowly followed the small path to the farm with the crosshair of the rifle's scope and found there in the yard a small boy, maybe nine years old. The crosshair stayed on him and followed him as he ran happily to his father, upon whose head the crosshair was focused now.

Matthew put down the rifle and took another general view of the area. There were a few guards posted around the yard, but none of them seemed interested in watching the edge of the ruins where a potential assassin could hide, like right now. He got off the windowsill and crouched on the narrow strip of the floor, placing his rifle upon the sill. He looked through the scope. The father was throwing an old baseball to the child who was trying to hit it with an old and splintered-looking bat. The kid was good at it, and it irritated the vault dweller, as every time the swinging bat of the child connected with the ball the father would jump up and run to catch the ball. He inhaled deeply, exhaled, his aim always on the father. Another throw. The man in the scope made a comforting grimace. The child missed. Excellent. The man stood up straight and crossed his hands on his chest, a faint smile on his face, seemingly harmless. That was all he needed. A second to make sure he'd aimed it right, compensated for the wind… Bang. A hole in the temple. Matthew landed on the rubble-covered floor of the first story the same time his target, now dead, hit the ground, and started fervently towards the Old Town, certain no pursuer would be able to catch up with him in the ruined district, with remains of buildings providing him constant cover.

He entered the Old Town and immediately jumped into a narrow alley, exiting behind an old warehouse. A man in combat armour stood there by the back entrance. Matthew gave him his sniper rifle without a word and quickly returned to the main street of the district, his pace slowing down to casual, his expression relaxed, somewhat tired, fitting with the dirty rags he put on just for this and the filthy cigarette he drew and lit up. Just another man down on his luck for in the eyes of any beholder.

The Old Town looked like a refugee camp, with so many people camped out in the streets, cooking meagre dinner over open fire, filthy, scared children trying to find something to play despite being stiff, affected by whatever circumstance drew their families out of their homes. Their parents eyed every passer-by with a gaze filled with mixed emotion: fear, desperation, hope, humility, and, for the most part, submission. It would have broken his heart a while back. Right now, all these people were cautionary tales, a display of what he could become if he slacked off, if he didn't do his best. It served to remind, or maybe convince him, that he made the right trade by shutting himself in.

The child.

He, or rather, the thought of him, the boy whom he just made witness the murder of his own father, was threatening to bring it all down. He felt regret, a monster inside him, thrashing to break free, break the vault dweller.

He swallowed it down.

Mercenaries in dark grey composite combat armour with a hazy "MZ" in the centre of a circle painted on their chests came into the Old Town's main street at a quick pace, obviously pissed, their heads darting left and right, looking for someone. Matthew took a drag from his cigarette and leaned against a wall of an old building just inside the alleyway. He turned his head left, and, on the other side of the dark litter-covered narrow alley he saw the makeshift wooden fence and a field of mutated corn beyond. The wind was softly caressing the stalks, as if someone invisible and incorporeal was moving just on top of the mutated crops. A spirit. A spirit of whoever he witnessed getting killed that day? That someone he could've saved?

'Hey!' He turned his head slowly and saw one of the armoured men in front of him. Shit. 'You got a smoke?'

A smoke? Matthew nodded slowly. Thank god, maybe it's just a coincidence, play it cool.

He drew the old and crumbled pack from his pocket slowly, reckoning he already appeared to the man to be a phlegmatic halfwit.

'Here ye go.' He said quietly, seemingly off in his own universe.

'Thanks.' The man said, producing a cigarette from the pack. 'Say, you haven't seen anyone come through here with some sort of scoped rifle?'

Matthew looked the man in the eye. No way was he going to slip up.

'Seen all sorts of people. Maybe seen your guy, wouldn't know. There's all sorts of people passing by these days.'

The man lit the cigarette and chuckled. 'Well, the whole town's up in a turmoil.'

'And everybody's coming here with all sorts a'guns looking for one Joe or another.' He shrugged. 'Don't matter to me if they leave me alone.'

The man laughed. 'I get the hint. Gotta protect your own piece of rubble, eh?' The man teased. Matthew sighed and looked away.

'I reckon we all do.'

'Got that right.' The man gave a half-hearted wave. 'Well I'll see you.'

'Yeah.'

The man walked away. Matthew followed him with his eyes for a while and turned his head back to the corn field, considering going in there.

'Huh,' he thought to himself, 'no sigh of relief.'

Indeed. He dodged a bullet there and for a second he was afraid the man had come to kill him for assassinating his boss. He just had a brush with death and he couldn't even manage a sigh of relief?

'Guess it gets boring when it's on a daily basis.' He thought bitterly and returned his attention to the crop field.

He threw the butt of the cigarette into the sand and stood up properly. Still time to kill before the sunset…

'Are you being serious?!' A woman's voice was suddenly heard above the rest. Matthew took a look.

It was Tabitha, approached by the two men in grey armour.

'Go harass someone else, you freaks!' She shoved her way past the two men, headed east, roughly at his direction.

'Shit.' He dove into the alley and jumped the fence into the corn field as if he was chased by the devil. Once inside, he crouched, as if she would be doing her best to find him.

She came into view on the other side of the alley at the moment the two men caught up with her. Shouts and curses were exchanged. Then Tabitha drew her combat shotgun, blew the face off of one of the men, swung her rifle and knocked the other man's gun from his hands, and gave him the same 12-gauge treatment in the face.

Matthew smiled. She didn't change.

He turned around suddenly, as if feeling someone behind him. There was no one. He turned back. Tabitha was out of view again. He turned to the field, staring at the putrid shade intently, as if mentally sparring with it. Every bit of reason there was in him told him to just drop it, but in the end his legs moved by themselves, slowly taking him to that place, the rest of his body getting ready to face it.

There was a small, perfectly square clearing in the crops, with a well in the middle, it's stonework having crumbled to the point it was barely knee-high. There were three figures in the field. On the ground, covered with flaked blood, pale and seemingly swollen, a little girl.

Beside her, Steven, looking right at the vault dweller without any sort of reaction or emotion. A slim woman was embracing him tightly, her face in his chest and her shoulders rising and falling violently in pace with her ragged breath.

'Hi, Matt.' Steven said neutrally.


	22. Trails, Part Five

A/N: Not a Fallout owner...

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-03-22 08:04 AM

The Sun rose slowly over the wasteland, ending the reign of the terrifying and terrifyingly verdant nocturnal life, bringing warmth to the wasteland. As the horrors of the night crept back into their cool, hidden lairs, the wasteland itself came to life. Tendrils of sand started writhing just above the ground, awoken by the wind. Soon the whole wasteland was covered in the writhing mess that rose ever higher with each passing minute, burying the rusted carcasses of broken-down cars by the roads first, then ascending to cover the entirety of the shacks of the Hub's farmers, the settlement's outer ring of ruins protecting it from the wrath of nature. However, as the hour climbed past midday the rim was broken and the sands, no longer furious tendrils but massive tentacles the size and fury of pre-war trucks, invaded Downtown Hub, burying everything under its furious torrents. Life in the wasteland oasis seized as the people cowered in whatever shelter was at hand. Peace at last, however short lived. The young vault dweller, an aspiring teacher, she reminded herself as was her habit that was near to lost, watched the storm from inside the Crimson Caravans Headquarters, finally aware of the reason why most ruins still had intact windows, if unwashed for decades, or at least paper screens. The sand got to everything, was able to find the smallest cracks in almost everything. She turned her head and saw a caravaner, the angry woman, Tabitha, exiting the building with a rag, a couple of nails, and a hammer. A few moments she heard hammering outside another window, and then saw the woman return hastily, shutting the door hard behind her and shaking off the sand like a dog.

'Did you hammer a rag outside a window the sand was getting through?' Sophia asked, not particularly interested in the answer.

'Yeah.' The woman confirmed impassively.

'It's a paper window. Why not just use some electrical tape?'

The woman looked at her as if she was born yesterday, then drew the shotgun from her back.

'Look.' She pointed at the stock of the weapon, cracked and jury-rigged with some tape. 'Electrical tape is way too valuable for shit like that; basically all our weapons are held together by tape, wonderglue and wishful thinking.'

'I see.' The vault dweller shrugged and returned to watching the sandstorm outside. It wasn't like she could see more than two meters beyond the window, but something about the wild swirling sands was hypnotizing, like fire. She could see the general store across the street too if she strained her eyes. Well, its silhouette at least.

Her head jerked to the side suddenly as she felt someone standing right beside her. Tabitha was looking out the same window as her, a hard edge to her gaze.

'You're sharp.' She stated, her voice giving the vault dweller no clue as to whether she was being complimented.

'Thanks.' She said with the same impassiveness.

'You have ammo for your shotgun on you right now?'

'Yeah.'

'How much?'

'Fifteen shells.' Sophia frowned.

'It'll do. Follow me.' Tabitha said, drawing her gun once again. Sophia mirrored the motion as Tabitha quickly opened the door outside and the two women left.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-03-22 10:28 AM

They entered the building through a hole in the wall.

'Maltese Falcon' Tabitha informed her quietly, 'the biggest bar-motel-casino in town.'

Sophia looked around. They were in a small hallway, a row of windows on one wall and a row of doors on the other. There was some bigger hall at the end of the hallway but she couldn't quite make it out in the twilight.

She listened in. There was a bit of a ruckus in one of the rooms. Angry voices, then, suddenly, a woman screaming. Tabitha walked into the room next to the one the sounds were coming from and locked the door behind her. Sophia looked around. The room was drenched in the same twilight, barely any light coming in through the stained paper window. The room stank of urine and vomit and there was nothing here but a single bed with a pile of sheets at the top.

'Tabitha?' the pile of sheets spoke up in a woman's voice. Sophia strained her eyes and saw that a woman was huddled inside all the cloth.

'Hello, Sammi.'

The voice of a baby whimpering quietly.

There was a knock on the door.

'Sammi here has run afoul of some nasty men.' Tabitha explained. 'It seems we came here just in time, they're here to cash out.' The knock on the door turned into banging and a mean voice was heard on the other side, demanding to unlock the fucking door. 'We're cornered now. No other way but to shoot those men in the face when they break through the door.'

'Oh god!' The woman whimpered as she pulled the babe, hidden under the sheets, closer to her chest, and started swaying slightly and sobbing.

Sophia looked at Tabitha. Her face was calm. Like stone. A very cold stone. Her shotgun was ready in her hands.

'You brought me here to kill some people?' Sophia asked as she drew her gun with shaky hands.

'If you want to save the woman and her child, yes.'

Sophia took a long hard stare at the other woman. What the hell was going on? Why was she brought here just to kill some folks? What sort of a twisted ploy was this?

There was a loud bang, the sound of men kicking the door. Tabitha levelled her shotgun.

'Don't think. Shoot anything that's on the other side.'

Sophia had barely level her shotgun when a final bang sent the door flying in. She pulled the trigger without looking, then again. She paused for a moment to saw a human-shaped figure levelling a pistol at her. She let her shotgun rip again. And again. And then listened in to the silence intently for any sign of other foes.

Tabitha stepped into the corridor and scanned it for more hostiles.

'Good.' She remarked, slinging her shotgun to her back and drawing a flashlight. 'A bit faster than expected but I think I'll make my point.'

The flashlight wriggled around the fallen foes until it stopped upon the face of one of them.

'I think his name is Howie.' Tabitha said. 'Daryl usually employs the young ones, figures people will be hesitant to shoot at them.'

She look at the illuminated face. A boy, no older than thirteen. Blond hair. A thin line of blood coming from the mouth and down his cheek. Dead eyes staring at the ceiling, seemingly surprised.

Her guts turned and she felt like throwing up.

The body wasn't moving. Why wasn't it moving? Because she killed him. She shot him. He is just a kid… _was_ just a kid. He wasn't like the raiders she'd killed before, he was a kid… He didn't know what he was doing, he could've seen the light yet, and she might have even helped him, it _was_ her job after all, but now he's dead… Dead because of her.

'Thank you' a weak voice said behind her. She turned around. A woman was standing behind her, the one form under she sheets, still wrapped in a single rag, a small, very small babe by her chest. Her eyes were large, reddened and moist, her entire face dirty, exhausted… ragged. And that emotion on her face… gratefulness. The babe was restless in her hands but barely even whimpered as she held it. Sophia took a long hard stare. Then looked back at the illuminated face of the kid she killed, Howie. Then up to Tabitha's face. A thought passed through her mind, why was she still holding light to the boy's face? She looked at the baby. Then the kid. Then the baby again. Then she looked at Tabitha. She'd come here following the caravaner. It was all her idea. And the flashlight… was she trying to make her see something? She looked at the babe and the boy again.

'Can I… come stay with you for a while?' The woman asked meekly.

Tabitha nodded. 'At least until the storm ends.'

The three woman and a baby approached the hole in the wall at the corner of the hallway they'd come in through. The woman, Sammi, wrapped the cloth tighter around her child and on its face, gently, worried not to smother. Something moved inside Sophia. That care, that affection… she'd just saved it by saving _them_. She looked at Tabitha's silhouette as they entered the furious sands at muttered a quiet thanks.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-03-22 11:11 AM

Matthew removed the bloody gloves from his hands and threw them into the garbage bin.

'Done.' He announced quietly and the man lain on the table smiled weakly. 'That leg won't be good for a couple of weeks, you'll need a crutch.'

'Lots of them in th'trash around.' The man said hoarsely.

'Watch out, though,' Matthew warned as he turned around and looked at his bloody instruments, 'old wood breaks easily.'

The man nodded.

'Get some sleep.'

The vault dweller disconnected the light bulb from the car battery and the bright, almost offensive light illuminating the basement was gone, replaced with deep twilight. Matthew's table was by a window, half buried in sand, but he realized he somehow saw everything okay.

His medic's tools were bloodied. He got some spirit and started cleaning, slowly, carefully.

It was pretty nice and cool in the basement and the twilight gave him the impression that time had forgotten this place, like this was a sanctuary outside of time and space, outside of reality. A pleasant melancholy. A place to reflect upon your life in.

He smiled a bit; there's nothing to reflect, really.

He was lost, very lost, but now, suddenly, all is simple and fine.

He was lost between priorities, he was lost between two types of people he could be, he was lost for cause or a reason to just go on living, nit just existing.

And then he met them again. In the field. By the dead girl.

And now everything is fine.

It's almost ridiculous how everything fell into its place. They had lunch in one of the ruined buildings and had a chat. It wasn't much of a conversation, though, as Sophia was a bit shocked and Steven was Steven. But some things were said: Super Mutants, stop Super Mutants, the Glow… And it all fell into place. This was his cause: to go with them, to help them, to reach the goal and eradicate the Super Mutants.

'It seems you just can't exist on your own' a part of him chastised but he didn't listen. Admittedly, he cared little about the Super Mutants, even if they killed Ian, they were still just some distant threat, not really a cause he felt like following with his heart. But it was something. Trying to attain this goal led through making plans, counting money, planning supplies… Everything became simple and clear. He didn't really know where he was going to be in a week but he had direction: it's simple, try to save up as much money as possible. It was comforting, it was simple. He could not live on his own. He rejected living under the care of others. But living while taking care of others – or maybe just cooperating with others – that he _could_ do.

It's funny. He was always a loner back in the vault, but now he feels the best around other people.

He put his instruments back in the bag and leaned back in the chair, exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. He smiled. He was pretty hungry now, filthy, surrounded by blood and infection, and that man in the corner is probably dead. But he was the happiest he'd been in a long time.

Finally.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-03-22 12:47 PM

She was sat at a table in the main hall of Crimson HQ, a glass of whiskey in front of her, trying to determine whether she's been drinking too much recently. It was hard to get used to in the beginning, when she'd just left the vault, but in time it became… natural.

The sandstorm was still raging outside and the lobby was almost empty apart for her, a trio of caravan guards recollecting their achievements, and a woman at another table reading a magazine and drinking cup after cup of what smelled like cigarette tea. Steven was nowhere to be found and Matthew was holed up somewhere in the Old Town, refusing to go anywhere near Crimson Caravans.

She sighed. After meeting Tabitha she couldn't believe they were once, not so long ago, comrades. And she couldn't believe that the person he talked about almost… fondly was that mean woman.

Then again, she did drag her out to make point that would help her.

'Life is shit up here.' She thought. 'And the best anyone can do is pick the lesser of two evils.'

But there was more to that lesson: choice. It's not like she had a choice back then, but, as she reflected, living in the wasteland means making hard choices. Killing the boy or letting him kill the baby. Both things were gruesome but the important part was picking your priority. If you love the babe and want to save him you have to do some rotten things. Nothing is easy and you have to make difficult decisions in order to stay human… as human as possible.

'All alone?' A man suddenly interrupted her ponderings by sitting down, 'the ranger' she realized as she'd seen him from afar. 'You're Sophia, right? The one who found the poor girl?'

'Wasn't just me.' Sophia cast her eyes down, the image of the dead child passing through her head. She shivered.

'Are you alright?' The man asked, his voice somehow warm and comforting.

Sophia nodded. 'I'm over it.'

'Really?' He frowned. 'Something like that usually leaves a mark.'

'I guess I'm over the initial shock but it's still… It's a vile thing to remember having seen.'

'I'm sorry you had to see it. I really am.'

That man was sweet.

'Thank you… But I suppose it's just inevitable these days. Times are hard…'

'It's exactly that sort of thinking that results in these things.'

Sophia looked into the ranger's eyes, disapproval obvious in them.

'But seeing it and leaving it aren't the same thing.' She countered. 'I say it is the way things are but I am not saying I condone such things. The knowledge simply helps me sleep at night.'

'It's a slippery slope, you know.'

'I know. But I assume I have enough of a clear head to tell the difference. And I assume you will say losing it is as simple as walking outside of town but I have been places, I have confidence in myself.'

'What do you live by?' Tycho asked, leaning back.

Sophia cast her eyes down. 'I am having a crisis about that.'

Tycho nodded, as if saying 'I told you so'.

'I mean,' she continued, 'if there was a twelve-year-old coming to kill a baby, what would you do?'

'Restrain him.'

'And if he had a gun to your face?'

'Disarm him.'

'And if you didn't have the skill?'

Words stopped in Tycho's throat.

'Would you let him get on with it?' Sophia pressed.

'I work to eradicate this sort of thing.' The ranger replied. 'It wouldn't be a problem if…'

'And I would be a president if I lived in 20th century USA.' Sophia dead-panned. 'All the 'if's… The reality is, this sort of stuff happens, it happened an hour ago, what would _you_ do?'

'I guess… stop the child. Because if he killed the babe it would be dead… and the child would… lose a lot.'

Sophia frowned. 'You have a strong sense of honour, don't you?'

Tycho nodded, confused.

'You're the sort of person who believes things are black or white?'

'But they are. It's sometimes hard to see but there's always the right way.'

'Funny. By your previous answer I assume that if there isn't an undeniably good solution then it's all down to math… zero souls on the white side against potentially one. Really curious.'

Tycho shuffled in his chair uncomfortably.

'I'm sorry. It's just that… I find things aren't that simple.'

'Maybe it's hard to see.' Tycho murmured standing up. 'It's good to see you're alright miss… Sophia?' The vault dweller nodded and smiled. 'I'll see you around.'

As the ranger walked away Sophia felt a tang of guilt. The man's intentions were good but she sort of pushed him away by attacking his beliefs. Then again, his way of thinking _was_ sort of dumb.

Tycho passed by Tabitha who walked straight up to Sophia and sat down.

'By the look on his face, Tycho doesn't consider you one of his favourite people.' She was mildly amused.

'He's simple minded.' Sophia shrugged.

Tabitha laughed. 'Not a lot of people would say that about a ranger.' She produced a cigarette and lit it. 'Then again, I wouldn't disagree with that.'

Sophia shrugged again and downed her whiskey. She looked at Tabitha and found her giving her a curious look.

'What?'

Tabitha took a long drag and smiled exhaling the smoke. 'Steven said you were usually sharp but I could only see hints of it… until now.'

'Well, you helped.' She laughed.

'Huh, all you needed was a start-up. Something to get you thinking.'

Sophia refilled her glass and poured one for Tabitha. 'Yeah. But if I wanted to make someone start thinking again I wouldn't take them shooting people.' She laughed. Tabitha smiled and the two raised their glasses and drank together.

'Wow,' Sophia thought, 'I'm drinking with that woman and even having an honest conversation with her… Wow.'

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-03-22 04:35 PM

'So that's where you've been.' Keri smiled as she entered the small kitchen of the Crimson Caravans, a small room at the back of the building where people would come to cook their food, though most of the caravaners tended to feed on pre-war junk food when not on the trail. Steven was sat at a chair leaning back against a counter, a firearms manual in his hands. 'Ooh, got that from my dad?'

'Yeah,' the vault dweller nodded, 'he seemed almost happy when I asked him he had any books. Thought he'd be irritated I walked around asking for stuff.'

'My dad's smart,' Keri laughed as she sat down on a counter, her feet dangling in the air, 'he appreciates other people seeking knowledge. Then again, I suppose he wasn't too happy with your choice.'

'I picked a mechanics 101 manual before I took this.'

'You couldn't have read it yet.'

'I browsed it. I figured we were headed for the ruins of an old facility so it couldn't help to see if I can learn some ways around things. Didn't find anything useful though.'

'So you're really going to the Glow?'

'Yeah.' Steven confirmed, putting down the book after memorizing the page number.

'It's a great think you're trying to accomplish.'

Steven shrugged. 'I guess.'

'Why are you doing it though? Really.'

Steven sighed, trying to formulate the answer.

'As incredible as it sounds, we have nothing better to do.'

Keri nodded, 'I understand. What you're trying to say, that is. You have no other goals.'

'Right.' Steven confirmed. 'We might not see this through to the end, but we need it… need to do _something_.'

'How about something safer instead?'

'It wouldn't be the same, you know? It doesn't have the same feeling, you can't just chose what you'll live by, it has to have a deeper meaning.'

'And would your partner agree? She seemed a bit too… ragged for something this dangerous.'

'She agrees, I'm sure of it. She's just… having distractions.'

Keri narrowed her eyes and looked at him intently. 'You're a difficult person to figure out.'

'Please don't.' Steven sighed. 'I hate people who dig into your being, deduce a couple of facts and conjure up the rest pretending they know shit.'

'Okay.' Keri smiled. 'But you _do_ care about her, don't you?'

'Yeah. Not romantically if that's what you're getting at.'

'I guess you just don't show it.'

'I guess I don't feel it as strongly as other people feel these sort of things.'

'You're calm and collected. Stands to reason you're a bit number than most.'

'I asked you to not do that.' Steven said evenly, staring off into the opposite wall.

'Sorry. I guess I can't help it.'

Silence fell in the room.

'What's Matthew like?' Steven asked after a long pause.

'Um… why do you want to know?'

'Curious.' Steven shrugged innocently. 'He's just a single man that made a difference. I'm curious about him because… I suppose we're trying to imitate him in a way.'

'That's just the thing,' Keri started, adopting a melancholy gaze, 'he wasn't just one man. In Shady Sands, he was just a poster boy for Ian and Tabitha's initiative. Around here he… he made mistakes. He never really did anything alone… apart from that big mistake. I guess he was just one of the guys that were there during some pretty important events and… he could sometimes look pretty imposing. Add some rumours into the broth and you somehow get an important person around these parts.'

'I guess you aren't about to tell me what he did.'

'It's a secret. But then again he's too far away for this to ever reach him. And I trust you. He killed a man. Slit his throat in his sleep in his own house.'

Steven couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

'Why?'

'He was told he'd get his hand on some important information if he killed him for this other guy.'

'The water chip.' Steven thought. Matthew did something like that for a water chip?

He remembered Matthew mentioning during their conversation that he walked away from the scene when Butch's daughter died. Steven assumed it was cowardice, or maybe just common sense. But if Matthew killed a man for information, then he was a lot more capable than he thought. And besides, the girl died the day before they found her and Matthew showed no signs of being affected. If he was there, then basic instinct told him to walk away… but in order to live with it required guts.

Steven always thought Matthew was actually quite capable despite giving off the shy and uncertain vibe almost all the time, but that was a lot more than he expected.

'I guess…' Steven stammered a bit, 'the stories we hear are really far-fetched some… a lot of the time.'

'The people of the Hub know what we believed they needed the most to know. Like up north, Shady Sands needed a hero, and even if there really wasn't one they made it look like there was. People's actions remain not only as the consequences of them doing something. Stories about them are also left behind and serve a purpose, a bit tweaked if need be.'

Steven nodded slowly. 'The truth is disheartening.'

'Yeah, better not say anything to Sophia.'

'Definitely.'

Keri stretched and jumped off the counter. 'I'm gonna go hit some expense reports. Have a good 'un.' She smiled.

Steven nodded and smiled back, then returned to the book once she left but he wasn't able to concentrate; his mind was elsewhere.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-03-22 06:14 PM

It was a bit disheartening how as soon as the storm ended there wasn't a horde of people coming out of their homes and getting into work digging up all the sand. Most just went about their business to compensate for the temporary hindrance, and only the shopkeepers bothered to clear the sand, if only from their doorways. Most of the people from Crimson remained idle at the HQ and Keri left immediately to try and negotiate one partnership or another. Tabitha left not long after, though neither of the vault dwellers knew what it was she was doing. They said their brief goodbyes and went to the Old Town where they found Matthew in an old building which turned out to be a weapons shop. On a bench between the building and the mutated corn field they sat down and counted their caps. Steven and Sophia's funds were at four hundred. Matthew alone collected around the same sum.

'I got something though.' Matthew said. 'A sniper rifle.'

'A sniper rifle?' Sophia asked, surprised. 'How did you manage to buy _that_?'

'Got it as payment for a job, though I had to give up my old rifle too.'

'What sort of a job pays that much?'

'A confidential one.'

Sophia let it slide, assuming Matthew took the rifle as a form of hush money. Steven's esteem of Matthew rose as he realized what he's been up to.

'We'll need some rope and crowbars if the facility's in bad repair,' Matthew said casually, 'and definitely Rad-X and Rad-Away. Food supplies, some water…'

'We'll be able to get some on the road.' Sophia opined.

'Well, just to be sure.'

Sophia and Steven purchased the supplies needed while Matthew wrapped things up with the guns trader, Jacob. When they met up again the next morning he was wearing his old, weathered suit of black leathers, contrasting with the clean black sniper rifle on his back. He wore a dirty green baseball cap, a pair of shades, and a modified bandolier with several .223 FMJ clips and a couple of frag grenades. Compared to his companions, who were bound in black leather, baseball caps and rucksacks, he looked dangerous and badass, reconfirming to Steven just how much more Matthew can really achieve.

'Shall we?' Matthew smiled as they divided the weight for the journey.

His companions nodded and they set out to the east, to the Glow.


	23. Courage

"This place is unkempt" the humongous Super Mutant remarked internally as he slowly but surely made his way through the underground base towards the Vats Control Room. Indeed, the vault-like structure was quite unsightly, with dirt piling up on the steel walls unattended and some consoles and monitors placed along the walls downright smashed to pieces. Of course, it was to be expected of a place where Super Mutants dwell, as most of them are quite dumb, most of the new ones are quite aggressive and unreasonable, and they all generally don't care about cleanliness, they are above that, they were more than humans. However, the Lieutenant couldn't help but maintain that such ignorance of common sense could be prelude to some more serious structural or mechanical failures. 'Or maybe it's just my human side talking' the mutant thought, wincing.

The Vats Control Room, run exquisitely by the human members of their organization, was, of course, spotless, if only because of their leader's insistence. She could be a real slave-driver when she wanted to, as the mutant knew and reckoned he was about to be reaffirmed of right now. Commander Sugurono was, predictably, at her console, programming something by the looks of it; as much as the Lieutenant wanted to boast his intelligence computers were something he just wasn't any good at.

"Miss Sugurono," the mutant greeted as warmly as he could. The woman punched in a couple more symbols and slowly turned around in her rotatable chair to face the mutant, her face a mask of indifference, predictably.

"Lieutenant," the woman nodded, "I was expecting you."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed. I have received word that you've fulfilled your end of the bargain... or are at least planning to. I believe the attack will be launched shortly?"

"We are at the finishing stages of the planning and we'll start gathering the troops within a week," Lieutenant confirmed, trying to sound as friendly and courteous as possible, "and what about the robot?"

"I am taking care of the last of the possible logic errors and opportunities to misinterpret programming. AIs are only _that_ reliable, I'm afraid, but Rhonda Hightower is not a particularly complex person, at least after the process. I believe the new program will be sufficient."

The Lieutenant hated the woman and her monotone voice, and so much more the way the corners of her lips would scowl just a little bit in disgust every time she spoke of mutants.

"You speak of Tabitha as if you know her," he noted, making sure to stress the way he referred to the mutant in her post-human name instead of the old one, "I am pretty sure there is more than we might think going on in that head of hers."

"There isn't. Not yet, at least. Following the dipping," the scientist scowled, just barely, "her mind became unstable but very... flexible, like wet clay, if you will. With proper stimuli her mind can be 'moulded' or 'shaped' quite drastically. And I must admit, Miss _Rhonda _has a personality uncannily suitable for our purposes, and the infection was really a superb one: she _is_ indeed very strong."

"You have read the reports..." Lieutenant ventured carefully, suddenly feeling threatened.

"I have. And I went through the robot's memory banks. The mutant shows great promise... You look tense, Lieutenant. Rest assured, a psychological assessment was absolutely necessary in order to create an effective AI."

The last thing the Lieutenant was going to do was resting assured. The mutant, _Tabitha_, was showing extraordinary promise: while she was pretty unpredictable and violent, her physiological attributes were superb, she was fearless and, in the future, probably suitable for command as she was learning pretty quickly and her beliefs, as the Commander said, were almost eerily similar to those of the Unity. She was an irreplaceable resource, and he wasn't going to let the human bitch take hold of her.

"I am sure the programming will be excellent," the mutant complimented, struggling to sound pleasant and polite, "and I promise I will allow time for the robot to work with her properly. Wouldn't do to have her thrown into battle right away and have something go wrong: the Master would have both of our heads for this."

He was expecting the woman to flinch. Instead, Commander Yuna Sugurono inexplicably smiled.

Shivers ran down the mutant's spine.

"Indeed, now that I have directly involved myself in the matter of Rhonda Hightower's training and conditioning, the responsibility for her performance is as much mine as yours. And I take my responsibilities very seriously."

'She wouldn't!' Lieutenant thought.

"I will leave the first stages of Miss Hightower's conditioning to the AI, but I shall assess the progress more carefully during this siege of yours. I do find it intriguing, Lieutenant, the settlement you chose... I wish to see how taking it over is going to help the Unity spread first-hand."

Bitch! Not only did she jump on the opportunity to get involved in the conditioning of what was probably going to be one of their best troops but she also had the gall to rub it in his face because she wasn't satisfied with his choice of settlement to take over! Rage washed over the mutant. It was bad enough some weakling human geek got herself involved in military actions, something _far_ beyond her, but she was apparently going out of her way to rub it in his face! Oh, he would handle this...

"Are you sure?" He asked, feigning concern. "A siege is dangerous, something could happen to you... I wouldn't want that."

A brief, infuriating smile. "You take your responsibilities as seriously as I do, I have learned, Lieutenant. I trust you will protect me. We may have our differences, but surely we have a measure of respect for one another. You are a _splendid_ strategist and I am responsible for every bit of technology we possess working. Surely you wouldn't let anything happen to me. The devastation it would cause to the Unity, our glorious Master's beloved brainchild..."

Oh no, she wasn't going to try this!

"Without any doubt, Miss Sugurono. However, accidents happen... I am the leader of troops, I am afraid, not tech personnel..."

"I trust your troops, human _and_ mutant will protect me from any possible harm."

He froze, a long line of swears running through his head. She might just be a techie, but she is still human, just like half the staff responsible for troop conditioning... could she have conspired with them? Could she have a much tighter grasp on his troops than he thought?

"Very well, Miss Sugurono," he nodded, doing his best not to clench his teeth. "I will see you before the siege... make sure you are out of harm's way."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. We have our differences, as I said, but perhaps this will be an opportunity for us to work together." She turned around in her chair and resumed her programming. "Oh, and I will send the new program directly to the robot when I am finished. The communication devices in this place turned out to be more more powerful than we thought once we repaired them."

"My sincerest appreciation," Lieutenant nodded, turned around, and left.

It took all of his strength to not punch a console once he was out in the hallway. That damned woman! He never saw her anything but a thorn at his side, but it turned out that one had a lot more bite than expected. No matter, no matter, he told himself, I am still the military commander, I have the power of life and death, and death can solve a lot of problems for me.

He returned to his office, a dozen ways of killing the scientist already running through his head. He was the future, damn it, _meta-humans_ were the future, not humans! The bitch will soon see...

* * *

><p>Peninsular Ranges<p>

2161-03-29 06:22PM

The Sun had just set and the evening's twilight was still providing strong and beautiful illumination when the shady mountain pass the vault dwellers were crossing turned into a ten-meter wide path hugging the mountain on the west and turning slightly westward. The path was uneven, littered with boulders as high as their chests and gravel that slowed them down, in addition to a small tilt downwards. Not the best path, Steven thought, but compared to all the other trails they'd taken, clinging to sheer cliffs while slowly testing the footing in the small paths hugging them, or climbing slopes so steep they had to go on all fours and look for handholds, it was pretty decent. Even surprisingly so. Steven inspected the path looking for any signs of anyone using it, but it seemed all natural.

Noticing his companions had stopped Steven froze immediately, only to find that they were admiring the view below: a mountain valley, with a small seasonal stream running through its bed, dry brown wasteland shrubs and some trees that actually had a few green leaves growing at the banks. The vault dweller counted at least half a dozen mole-rats swimming in the stream, drinking, or just hanging nearby. The valley was a far shot from the nature he'd seen in the movies back in the Vault, but there still was something relaxing about it.

"Maybe we can make camp here tonight," Steven said, directing his gaze further down the path, "lots of boulders here, if we can find a shelter to hide our fire we could spend the night here, maybe catch some mole-rat."

"Not mole-rat!" Sophia whined. "We've still got enough salted brahmin to feed all the poor in the Hub, and besides, it's god-awful! Unless you let me stew it! I've learnt how to make a _wonderful_ mole-rat stew in the Boneyard..."

"No time to be making stews," Matthew interrupted, "and we've only got just enough brahmin to last us to the Glow and back, any additional source of food would be good."

"But it's so awful and stringy!" Sophia laughed, trying to sound whiny.

"And a week-old salted brahmin is _just_ stringy," Matthew laughed as the three vault-dwellers continued down the path.

"Eating some rat is still better than salted Brahmin all the time, humans need variation in their diets, you know," Sophia laughed. Steven walked ahead of the two, keeping a look-out while his companions made light-hearted conversation. They were quite fond of talking about nothing, for some reason, and Sophia chastised him for not participating one night. He just shrugged it off; for some reason listening to light-hearted banter was as good as having it for him.

"Oh, variation?" Matthew laughed as Steven tensed up, picking up the faint sound of feet upon gravel ahead. "Exchanging one shitty food for another is not..."

"Down!" Steven suddenly commanded, a second before three figures emerged from behind the boulders and started dashing, or rather shambling quickly, their way. The three immediately took cover, Steven on the eastern side of the path near the valley's cliff, and both his companions on the western.

It took a couple seconds longer than Steven had anticipated for their foes to get on top of them, and one look at them told Steven why: ghouls. Their assailants were all victims of radioactivity, burnt-looking men in torn rags decorated with animal skulls. While these three charged at them with nothing but spears the report of a handgun and a shotgun, probably sawed-off, further down the path indicated that there were more of them than just the three.

Matthew had gotten behind Sophia by the time the ghouls were upon them, ready to fire at a distance. He saw two of them charge Sophia before another one appeared in front of him, the spearhead aimed at his chest.

Steven fired his assault rifle at the same moment Sophia fired her shotgun. The ghoul in front of him staggered back, his rags ripped apart from his navel to his neck, a thick viscous fluid slowly oozing out of the wounds instead of blood. The ghoul fell over just in time for Steven to see the second ghoul aim at Sophia. He quickly switched his aim but stopped a fraction of a second before firing as Sophia shot the ghoul in the solar plexus and at the same time, a .223 from Matthew's sniper rifle shattered the creature's head to pieces.

He expected to find Sophia shocked, what with her lack of nerve, but instead the vault dweller was keeping her head down behind the rock and calmly reloading, even as one of their foes down the path peppered the boulder she was hiding behind with shotgun pellets. Steven took a peek. There were three boulders ahead of them, maybe 30 meters away, and, as he looked upon the assailants, the one with the shotgun ducked while two more peeked from behind the rocks at either side and started chipping away at the boulders with their 10mm pistols.

A loud report of Matthew's rifle and there were only two more ghouls left to contend with. Steven returned to cover, just as Sophia took a couple of shots at one of the boulders. He looked at Matthew and pointed at the boulder protecting the shotgun-ghoul and Matthew nodded. The moment Sophia returned to cover, Steven started unloading at the boulder with the ghoul with the pistol. Predictably, the other ghoul emerged and was instantly killed by Matthew.

Their guns went quiet as Steven and Sophia reloaded, Matthew keeping his sights firmly upon the boulder with the last foe. Before he could say anything, Sophia started inching towards it, her feet making surprisingly little sound upon gravel. The vault's security officer started firing at the rock to hide her advance as he felt his stomach drop. What the hell was she doing? The foe was still armed, she's not that good a fighter to hope to just jump over the boulder and kill the ghoul...

Yet that was exactly what she was going to do. His assault rifle clicked dryly and he dropped it on the ground. Acting without thinking, he grabbed a rock from the ground and threw it over the boulder to where the ghoul should be, the same moment as Sophia circled around the cover.

There was a 'fuck', the bang of a pistol, and the crack of a shotgun.

Steven felt tense.

Sophia lowered her weapon, ducked and proceeded to reload. "All clear, I think!" She said loudly.

The two men got up on her feet and started towards her. Just as Steven was about to open his mouth and chastise the girl, Matthew cut him off.

"What the hell was that?" He demanded. "What were you trying to do, pull a surprise jack-in-a-box?"

Sophia smiled. "That was the idea, yes."

"It was a fucking _bad_ idea. You weren't hurt? There was a shot..."

"Steven threw a rock at the thing and the shot went wide. I'm fine!" she reassured, trying to act friendly and calm.

"You were lucky. Be more careful next time, god damn it," Matthew muttered as he turned around and started towards the three dead spearmen. "And search the bodies!"

Steven felt uncomfortable for a second, not used to seeing Matthew so angry and... well, authoritative, but he figured it was a good thing. As Sophia crouched and extended her hand towards the ghoul she intended to search Steven noticed a flicker of fright and hesitation in her eyes, dispelled quickly by a deep breath. Sophia searched the fallen foe with the expression of one searching for something in a hole of shit and trying hard not to throw up. He figured it wasn't a good thing.

As he got to searching the other fallen foe Steven reflected upon the battle, and the last few days of their journey. They were lucky enough not to get attacked by anyone sapient, until today, and the vault dweller had been looking forward to it with unrest: after all that transpired in Junktown and the Hub he reckoned Sophia would be too much of a mess to do any good in a fight, and Matthew was just being unpredictable. But Sophia displayed a lot of nerve in that fight, uncharacteristically so. Whatever happened in the Hub with her and that woman Tabitha probably did some good.

"When that second spearman attacked me," Sophia said when they finished searching the bodies, "why did you shoot at it? I had it all under control."

Indeed, Steven thought, he assumed Matthew would let the two of them handle the charging foes and take the chance to gun down at least one of the ghouls armed with guns. At least, that was obviously the best way to do it.

Matthew, having simmered down, just shrugged and looked at his feet. "Well, he was right on top of you. Wouldn't do to let him spear you," he looked at her and smiled sheepishly. "That would have cost us a _lot_ of time."

"Time!" She laughed. "God forbid you worry about _me_!"

The tension was broken and Steven found himself surprisingly relieved. He shook his head. Since when was he so affected by all this?

"Hey!" Matthew mock-whined, looking down at the valley, "the mole-rats are gone!"

"Yaay!" Sophia cheered, "no mole-rat for me! Thank God for armed conflicts!"

The two of them laughed while Steven packed the stuff he found on the killed foes into his backpack. For some reason, he suddenly felt really lonely.

"Should make camp here," he said, "could use a rest before going further that way."

Without a word being spoken, Matthew and Steven started tossing the dead ghouls down into the valley below while Sophia unrolled their bedrolls, each on the western side of a boulder so the morning's sun wouldn't cook them. They work really well as a team in these small matters, Steven realized, but it looks like combat just wasn't going to go as smoothly.'

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-03-30 01:44 PM

The woman was attractive, he had to admit: her smooth skin was beautifully tanned, her eyes were almond, her lips full and her cheekbones prominent. It was strange to see such a pretty, properly nourished thing in the slums of the Hub, and he had to wonder how many of the city's destitute came here just to look at her and how many actually came because of the message she was spreading.

"It was greed and selfishness of those who came before us that doomed us to live in this devastated husk of a world!" She exclaimed to the crowd of about a hundred from her podium on a broken-down car. Despite her delicate appearance, her voice was hoarse, yet authoritative. "The Old Ones' disregard for one another lead to this planet being punished by the Sacred Fire! Cities burnt! Their people burnt with them! Look around, their skeletons are still here for us to see and remind us of their sins!"

The crowd consisted of more than just the Oldtown's destitute, he suddenly noticed. Indeed, there were a couple of caravan guards he knew standing in the crowd, and even some prominent merchants. He directed his attention back to the woman, briefly wondering for the hundredth time what she looked like underneath those baggy purple robes.

"And now, right here, in this city you call your own, the same doom is creeping forth once again! Greed and selfishness! Just how many of this city's wealthy and influential are but slaves to these two disgusting faults? By whose words were the fires started at night so many times, who commanded the men to shoot one another in the streets? Just like in the Beforetimes, men are killing one another out of greed! They built this city only to fulfil their every need, they enslaved you, and your siblings, and your parents and children so you would build their empires _for_ them, and just like before, these empires are crumbling down!"

She paused, her gaze drifting through the crowd, trying to look as many people in the eye as possible. When she spoke again, she spoke quietly. "And what will it all lead to? I will tell you. It will lead to the same thing it led to last time."

He realised that despite standing in the back of the crowd he'd heard the woman's words loud and clear, and was surprised to turn around and see that the woman had everyone's rapt attention.

Suddenly he felt very uncomfortable.

"But we can stop it!" The woman exclaimed again. "For many will win where one falls! For we are the Children of the Unity, because we live in peace, harmony, and love!"

He inched back away from the crowd, not daring to turn his back to the crowd and the woman on the car until he edged around a corner. He shuddered, turned around and headed for the Market district, creeped out. Explosions and fire-fights he could stand, but that thing back there was mental!

The woman has a point though, he thought as he left Oldtown and proceeded towards the Crimson Caravans office. Decker and Daren dying in such a quick succession shook the foundations of the Hub and created power vacuums in several places at once, and while the city's influential hurried up to fill these spaces using their money, the rivalry soon became a bloodbath that devastated the settlement. He passed by the old Beth's gun shop, now abandoned. Not a day after the death of Butch's daughter, while the man was weak and Crimson hadn't taken over, someone broke into the shop, stole all the weapons, raped the proprietor and then slit her throat. The bookshop across the street stood empty as well: no one was interested in its merchandise, but after the owner got killed by a stray bullet from a fire-fight outside and Crimson had secured all the books for themselves the place was left empty.

Or not, he thought as he saw a drunken tramp walk out of the building in question and take a piss in the street. It seems that the Market is slowly losing territory to the poverty of Oldtown.

Far Go Caravan office too was no more. Between losing his daughter and committing suicide Butch Harris agreed to transfer command of the company to Keri Romara, seeing as how his second-in-command went missing and the girl was able to give him closure regarding his murdered child. With Butch dead and Far Go caravaners demanding wages they had not been paid since someone started coming after Butch, Keri was able to transfer all of the employees and property of the company to her father's with impunity: she announced Far Go caravans to be bankrupt, divided up all its property among its employees as compensation for the missing wages and absconded with the company's funds, claiming that Far Go's finances had gone down in the shitter after Daren's death and that whole mess with the Super Mutants. Crimson Caravans purchased what inventory they needed from their rivals' employees and then offered them jobs, thus absorbing the company. Some of the caravaners retired then and there and refurbished the caravan office into a bar, 'Far Gone'. But then someone killed them in the night and took over the bar, renaming it to 'The Hole', and then, if he was not mistaken, it was taken over again without changing its name, and served as the den of one of the contenders for the throne of the Hub's underground, very much like what Maltese Falcon was before that whole mess.

Oh, the Maltese Falcon! He stopped just short of the main door the caravan office and looked at the place. It was always a bit run-down but since it was the seat of Decker's power it has seen more abuse than any other place in the Hub. The bar area was burnt down and the rest of the place was littered with bullet holes on the walls and blood pools on the ground, some sections of the outer wall were blasted to pieces with grenades one night, and the hotel-slash-brothel rooms were stinking messy refuges of Decker's former employees, most killed or fled. He felt really bad about it. Tatiana, the pretty small-boobed dominatrix whose accent made her sound like a drill sergeant, Julie with her long five-coloured pony tails, low-cut blouses with her boobs falling out, and even Obsidian, the exotic woman with large sensual eyes who couldn't speak English – all dead in the turmoil, never to be seen again, never again to chase away the stiffness from his body after another close brush with death. It was wrong, he thought, this sort of stuff should only happen out there in the wastes. Now there was no way for him to feel safe and relaxed anywhere, not with all the gunfights in the city that used to be his safe port in the storm. It's funny though, he thought, that even though he was a caravan guard, and thus death was his business, all this violence and destruction was distressing him to no end.

He pushed the door open and entered the Crimson Caravans office, now brimming with people, and waded through the crowd to the corner of the room where Tycho and Tabitha were sat by a table discussing something over beer.

"Charlie!" Tabitha greeted him and motioned for him to sit next to them. "What's up?"

He snatched a bottle of whiskey from the drink cabinet, sat down, and took a few swigs.

"Been to another Children rally," he said, "last one for me, I think. Fucking creepy, don't really want to go there again."

"Creepy? How, exactly?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, "the people listening, I guess. They were fucking entranced, god damn it, creepy as hell."

"So what do you make of them?" Tycho asked.

"They're pretty nice on the outside. I hanged around their church and their gatherings for a couple of weeks to see who they were. Seemed pleasant enough. But the truth is, they're rallying the poor-folk against the rest. They talk shit like how everyone here is greedy, just like people who started the War, and if they don't do something, the War will happen again, here in the Hub."

"Great," Tabitha sighed and took a few swigs of her beer, "everyone who owns a business around here is at each other's throat, mercenaries are slaughtering people in the streets, and now the poor folk are rising. Just fucking awesome."

Charlie took a large gulp of his whiskey.

"That is, by the way, a pretty good reason to stick to the milder stuff," she pointed out.

He sighed. "What's the point, whiskey's the only thing that makes you forget how shit's gone to hell around here."

"'Shit's gone to hell'," Tabitha chuckled. "It sure has. Shit, I came over here from fucking Oregon to find a nice place to settle and now all this."

"This doesn't mean you're going to leave?" Tycho asked, concerned, as always.

"Hell no!" She replied adamantly. "I got my sights on making a nice place for myself around here and I will damn well see it through! Besides, I can betcha Keri and Demetre are working on another clever plan again, those guys are awesome! As long as they care I say we still have a chance."

"Clever plan?" The ranger frowned in disagreement. "Like the one when they swallowed up a smaller rival company for no good reason?"

"It was a good, sound plan!" Tabitha frowned, irritated. "And it wasn't for no good reason, they're about the only people who care about bringing back stability to this place instead of making themselves rich, and they needed to muster as much strength as they could. The Far Go guys were just sitting on their asses."

"I _hope_ they care about stability, though they haven't done much towards that, have they?"

"Keri and Demetre are the only reason the General Store, the Bank, and those two stores in Oldtown haven't been burned down yet, and the only reason the Sheriff is not yet overwhelmed. It takes time, you know? The situation's pretty messed up."

"I do not approve of their methods," Tycho said with finality. "And I'm not sure about their goals."

"This doesn't mean you're going to leave?" Tabitha asked, mocking his earlier words.

The ranger squinted, as if eyeing her like prey.

"No, this means I'll be helping the _Sheriff_ instead of those two."

"Fine," Tabitha shrugged and drank up. Charlie sighed. Every day the chaos outside the door went unchecked more and more friction arose between people, to the point that even good friends would sit down to have a friendly idle chat and look like enemies spitting bile at each other. Everyone's nerves were wearing thin, and so were his, if only because everyone else's were. He sighed and took a few large gulps of his whiskey. I need a vacation, he decided.

Silence fell between the three and he thought back to the Children of the Cathedral. Damn creepy people. He wondered if he'd have to kill some of them before this was over. He wondered if they'd try to kill _him_ before this was over. He wondered if he had the patience to see it all through. Hell, even going up against Super Mutants back then was easier.

Super Mutants!

"I think those Children might be worshipping Super Mutants," he said carefully. Tabitha's head snapped at him and Tycho frowned, concerned. "They didn't say anything specific, only that the people must unite into one or some shit like that, and that the Unity will bring forth some 'Nexus of Rebirth' thing that will turn them into... something... that will be able to withstand the harshness of the world without destroying it. Something like that."

"They don't mean ghouls?" Tycho asked.

"Hell no! I saw old Harold try to talk with their priestess, Jain. The woman couldn't help baring her teeth at him!"

The three of them fell silent.

"If that's the case," Tycho stated carefully, "then these Children might be more dangerous than any of those outlaws competing for power."

"Damn right!" Tabitha agreed, leaned back in the chair and fixed her gaze on the ceiling, deep in thought.

"I think that might just be the most important thing," she finally said. "Keri and Demetre are doing their best to handle the chaos and they don't need any help in planning, so.."' she leaned forward and looked at her two companions, "I say we worry about the mutants and the Children in their stead. I think we all agree that it's something we need to take care of quickly."

"_After_ a proper investigation, maybe," Tycho disagreed. "We can't take action, much less violent action, based on presumptions."

Anger flashed through Tabitha's face. She's going to have a go at him again, Charlie thought, and suddenly felt tired.

"Of course we'll investigate them," Charlie stated before Tabitha could say anything. "To confirm what their objectives are _and_ to find out their plans, their weaknesses."

For a moment he thought Tabitha was still going to have a go at someone, but instead she just asked 'how' in the most spiteful tone she could manage.

"I've been hanging around these folks for a while," he attempted a reassuring smile. "Leave _this_ piece of planning to me."

Tycho nodded and even Tabitha leaned back, seemingly satisfied with his answer. Keri was gathering people for another caravan run and the place was getting empty. Somehow every day seemed like a struggle now, especially when he was here, in the reception-slash-drinking area of Crimson Caravans, where he spent so many hours idly drinking and relaxing after another run, the dangers of the wasteland behind him, a bottle of whiskey and the possibility of visiting Tatiana or Julie, or maybe even Obsidian, before him. He took a couple more greedy swigs, feeling irritated and antsy, like, he reckoned, most of the people in the Hub.

* * *

><p>The Glow<p>

2161-03-31 03:07 PM

From what little they'd gathered about the place, Matthew thought the Glow would be a more ominous, more threatening place, but that wasn't the case.

He'd half-expected the mountains around the place to be on fire and giant mutants to roam around its entry. Instead, their Geiger counter simply started picking up radiation one unexceptional day, and a few hours later they arrived at the entry.

The Glow was a pre-war underground installation of some sort, built underneath a mountain, and the place was indeed nuked: he could see the huge crater the nuclear bomb blasted into the side of the mountain, though time and wind had smoothed the features of the bowl, softening the edges and filling the bottom with sand. There had been a landslide on the mountain above it and a tongue of sand and rock descended into the crater, making it look halfway natural. He couldn't dare to guess where the intended entry of the Glow was, but he saw how they would be entering it: a small hole in the crater, nothing special: just a lot of sand and then a dark patch leading underground.

With anti-radiation drugs racing through their systems the three vault dwellers descended into the crater, and Matthew suddenly felt the first pang of fright. They would be going down there, through the small hole, into ancient corridors buried underneath a mountain. The place seemed so cut off from the world, so smothering that Matthew actually had to remind himself that he grew up underground and shouldn't be afraid. Alas, he was. And so was Sophia, he assumed as he took a peek at her: the woman's eyes were fixed upon the hole as she walked while visibly struggling to remain calm and strong. Steven took point so he couldn't see how he was handling it, but knowing the security officer his face would be anything but revealing.

The hole that led to the Glow was three meters of sand before reaching the outer shell of the facility: a mess of broken lead sheets, concrete and rebar, and how much further it was to the ground was obscured by darkness.

Steven cursed when he looked at the hole and figured there was no easy way to drop a rope down there. He tied two ropes together, tied one end to a boulder, brought into the crater by the landslide's tongue, and dropped the other down the whole. The security officer went first and did so excruciatingly slowly in order to make sure the rope would hold. Sophia came second and Matthew followed behind her, taking a deep breath and plunging into the darkness.

The first thing he noticed was the silence. He hadn't reached the outer shell of the facility before he could no longer hear the wind, or anything else for that matter, except for his own struggling down the rope. The second thing he noticed, immediately below the shell, was the smell. Dust, he thought, it stinks like a ton of dust, like rusting metal... and slightly like ash.

Only a little light managed to seep into the hallway below. He slid down the small mound of sand that formed below the hole towards his companions' flash-lights before turning on his own.

The place looked a lot like a vault, the floors, walls and ceilings covered with sheet metal, but where the hallways of Vault 13 were clean, well-lit and bustling with people, and the ones in Vault 15 were covered with dirt and litter, the hallways of the Glow looked like they were burnt. There was no trace of dirt or litter here, it was all perfectly clean, as if the nuclear fire had disintegrated everything into such a level that not even ash was left behind, like everything lost tangible form and turned into that smell. The walls were the colour of bleached rust, giving them a burned look as well, and so did the metal desks and chairs in the office areas they passed, though Matthew noticed that all of the cushions were gone from the chairs, like they just turned into smoke. It all made him feel much deeper under ground than he really was. He found it difficult not only to move but also to stop looking at one thing and turn his eyes to another.

It took them a while to get going, each vault dweller lost in their own feelings and thoughts, but once they did Matthew saw another trace of the nuclear war. In some places in the hallway and the adjacent small offices the metal platings on the wall and ceilings had been twisted and the concrete behind them pounded into dust that settled in piles underneath the damaged areas. One office was so damaged that its walls bent towards the centre of the room and the ceiling crumbled, creating a room filed with rubble and accessible only on all fours. If Matthew thought that having grown up in the vault would make the journey down into the Glow easier, he was proven very wrong. He grew up surrounded by metal walls, knowing that his home was the safest place in the world, designed specifically to withstand nuclear bombardment. He knew the walls were thick and strong, and to see the same sort of a place here, so devastated by the war, was frightening. He tried to imagine the sort of force it would take to bend the metal sheets, crush the concrete and twist the underground passages into caves of dust stone and broken metal, and the thought made his stomach drop. If a nuclear bomb had fallen on Vault 13, it would probably look just like this, even his sturdy home would have turned into a twisted ruin. Another thought crossed his mind: the world above wasn't nearly as sturdy as his vault. If there were bombs raining on the earth, powerful enough to break even this sturdiness, how in the world could it be that anything at all still remained on the outside world?

He'd seen the movies in the vault, and he'd seen the reality of post-apocalyptic settlements, but he had underestimated the intermediate destruction; it was beyond comprehension.

For a moment he felt scared: no way was life possible in a world beset by a destruction as vast as this. But then he realized that not only was it possible, but it was also being done: this moment, yesterday, and the whole eighty years before that.

He realized that if there could be anything at all left after the bombs, it would be hell: a harsh, unforgiving place where only the strongest survive. And yet _he_ has survived, a pampered vault dweller. He thought back to his travels through the wasteland, back to every time he was in danger but managed to get away alive. He'd been coasting recklessly and on sheer luck, he realized.

Life in the wasteland suddenly gained different colours.

They made their way through the facility slowly, ignoring an elevator they passed by in order to search all of the first floor before going down, if, god forbid, that was necessary.

With Steven and Sophia walking ahead of him Matthew directed his flashlight to the ground; it was way better than inspecting all the horrors the War left behind. And Steven and Sophia... his companions suddenly started to look a lot more fragile than before, pretty much like him. It only took so much to kill a man, and there was so much violence and destruction circulating through the world...

Twenty minutes into the slow walk through the place they found the first dead body. An employee of the place, probably, dead for eighty years. What was once a human being was now a pile of fine ash, only distinctly familiar to a human silhouette.

Thirty minutes in the vault dwellers entered another room, some spacious research area littered with terminals, and found what they were looking for. It was a dead man, clad in some sort of metal armour that made him look more like a robot, or a human tank.

"Wow!" Sophia gasped as she bent over and picked up something that lay by the dead man.

"A plasma pistol," Steven recognised the item immediately. "Maybe it even works..."

He took it from her and started inspecting it the best he could before finally crossing his fingers, pointing it to a wall and pressing the trigger.

A seemingly alive, writhing mass of green light appeared at the tip of the gun, then flew into the wall where it splashed like a rotten tomato, leaving behind a small singed crater. The way it reminded him of Necropolis and Ian made Matthew uncomfortable.

"I guess you'd be better off using this instead of a shotgun," Steven suggested, handing the weapon back to Sophia. "The shotgun's way too bulky and brutal for you."

"You know how to maintain energy weapons?" Matthew asked, finding talking a surprisingly good way to dispel the fear.

"I know how to maintain just about any weapon," Steven replied evenly. "It was my job."

"Can't imagine Jacoren wanted his security officers to know how to repair a plasma pistol," Sophia laughed. "There were none in the vault, after all."

Steven shrugged.

"I guess some people take their specialisations more seriously than others."

The three fell silent and Matthew was reminded of where he was and how disheartening being here felt.

"Should check for ammo," he muttered, kneeling down to inspect the corpse. "And maybe any clue as to what happened to him."

"He'll have a device similar to a Pip-Boy in that armour," Steven said. "Maybe there's a log."

He indeed found some ammo for the plasma pistol on the man and handed it to Sophia. Steven briefly went over operating the thing while Matthew managed to find a compartment on the armour's left wrist. The metal plating there was protecting a smaller version of the Pip-boy, integrated into the armour. He accessed the log and read the last entry.

"Captain Maxson was right," Matthew read the first lines aloud. "This place is death. I'm writing this so that if we don't make it back, someone, some day, might find out what happened to us."

"A nice start," Sophia muttered under her breath.

Matthew skimmed through the rest of the log, not really wanting to read much into it at the moment.

"It looks like security's still active on the third floor, not the second though," he summed up the log. "_And_ that security, whatever it is, cut many men wearing this armour, quote on quote, to ribbons."

Sophia looked around the room.

"Maybe we should head down at least to the second," she suggested as she approached a console and tried turning it on. "There's no telling what treasures there are in this place."

She pressed the on button several more times but the machine offered no response.

"The floor below _should_ be less damaged than this one," Steven opined. "Maybe there's something good down here."

"No one ever comes here," Sophia added "Everyone knows this place is death and no one feels skilled enough to try and go down here. And _we're_ here now. Whatever this place was, it must still have vast amounts of information that could help the people above, not to mention some useful items. I mean, the Brotherhood are already a high-tech scientific organization but they felt compelled to scavenge here!"

Matthew downloaded the logs into his own Pip-Boy and thought it over. He didn't relish the prospect of spending any more time here, but there could be things down here that would help them immensely, even the plasma pistol was already a wonderful find. He opened the doctor's bag he now kept strapped to his belt for quick access and took another tally of their radiation drugs.

"We've got enough drugs to last us twelve hours," he concluded. "If we took that much Rad-X, though, we'd be pissing blood by the time we got back to the surface, and I'm even more reluctant to use the Rad-Away." He looked up at his companions. "If we're doing this, no matter how much cool shit we find down there, we're heading back up in three hours. _And_ we're not going deeper than the second floor. If the security system cut men in this armour to ribbons, we really don't stand a chance."

He was surprised at how adamant and authoritative he sounded.

"Three hours are plenty," Sophia nodded. "Let's split up and have a good look at this place."

They split up a bit, making sure they were still within five seconds' run from each other, and investigated the floor. The place was a research facility, there was no doubt about it, and that was probably the reason why it was so free of litter. The corridors that were once more monotonous and sterile than those of Vault 13 now looked disinfected by fire. After ten minutes of hasty search through what few containers survived the bombardment they came up with two 14mm pistols, some 14mm ammo and several stimpaks.

"Level two. No further," Matthew confirmed again as they approached the elevator. Sophia gave him an amused grin.

It's probably not even going to work, he thought as he pressed the call button. Alas, no luck. The rusty door creaked and opened, and the vault dwellers stepped into the small elevator. Matthew could feel his companions tense up as he took a deep breath and pressed the number two on the control panel.

The eerie quiet of the abandoned facility was suddenly disturbed by a loud humming of the machine coming to life. The elevator cabin shook violently and they heard the screech of metal rubbing against metal before the machine started descending slowly, creaking all the way, as if each inch was a stab in its belly.

The trip took maybe twenty seconds but as the door parted and the three companions hurried out of the cramped space it felt like they'd been there for hours.

They stopped to gather themselves and pressed on.

The room just north of the elevator was a strange one, small, without any furnishings, floor covered with grates and walls lined by charging bays with inactive robots.

"A security checkpoint," Steven informed dryly. "Eye-bots and Robo-brains. The Eye-bots are armed only with an electrified prod, but the Robo-brains can use just about any weapon with those appendages."

"What was it they were shooting at the Brotherhood?" Sophia asked, barely whispering.

"Can't tell. When not in combat the Robo-brains have their weapons stored inside their chassis."

"Don't want to find out then."

The rest of the second level was much like the first one, except for being a lot less damaged. There were still twisted metal plates and broken concrete piles, but they were not so numerous and not so violently warped. There were also more dead bodies, scorched almost to dust, though the ones here still had their bones half-way solid, no longer the ghosts from uncanny valley like the corpse above. This somehow made Matthew feel safer despite being closer to killer security systems below.

Most of the spacious rooms on the second level were filled with computers, none of them working. Steven and Matthew managed to scavenge a pair of assault rifles, an assortment of explosives, and a red keycard from a small room, probably a security storage, and nothing else could be found in the rest of the Spartan facility.

Sophia spent all the time in level two trying to find a working computer and when he came to check up on her he found that her brave façade had fallen and she was now both angry and scared.

"This is just not fucking fair!" Sophia cursed as he punched the console weakly and rested her elbows upon the machine, cupping her forehead. "All this knowledge right in front of me and I can't access it!"

"Power's down," Matthew offered weakly. "Nothing can be done."

She stood up straight and looked him in the eye like it was all his fault.

"The elevator's still working! Why can't these damn machines do the same?"

"Other power grid, maybe," Matthew shrugged. "Or maybe the electric cables in the walls got torn or fried... _that_ seems very likely."

He suddenly felt sorry for her. She was always the idealistic sort, eager to help everyone and make a change, and she really pulled herself together for this journey, but it appears she isn't going to get anything for it. Life was unfair that way.

Life after the bombs, he was reminded. Having seen what he'd just seen and having grasped the magnitude of the destruction the world suffered, it was very hard to stay optimistic and call something unfair instead of just shrugging and trying to take it in stride.

Steven called him over from the next room and he left Sophia to simmer down.

In an office across the hallway Steven had pushed a desk aside to reveal a safe hidden behind it in the wall. Matthew picked the lock and opened the container, Steven flashing his light inside.

The physician expected to find stacks of money, or maybe some top secret documents in it, so he was surprised when he saw two neat piles of books stashed inside the safe. He picked one up; it was one of the 'Big Book of Science' volumes.

"Wow, manuals!" Matthew gasped, genuinely surprised. "This is _very _useful. Maybe it'll make Sophia feel better."

He drew the other books out of the safe one by one, one manual after another, all of them coming from different fields of science – botany, pedology, astronomy...

"They could all be used for survival," Steven noted, inspecting the books further. "The astronomy book has a sizeable chapter on navigation, and the pedology manual is largely on the improvement of agricultural soil quality."

"I suppose someone who worked here thought they'd survive a nuclear war and made sure to be able to carry on afterwards," Matthew guessed, the unspoken end of his thought being how, no matter how secure the place was and how much knowledge the books contained, it was all in vain in face of the nuclear war.

"If this place hadn't been hit directly, they would've," Steven opined.

Yeah, life was unfair that way.

"You alright?" Steven asked, and Matthew realized he'd been quiet for a while.

"Yeah," Matthew replied, attempting a reassuring smile. "Just... makes you think, you know?"

"I imagine," Steven replied and suddenly Matthew noticed that his indifferent manner of speech had changed; he sounded genuinely sad. "This place kinda reminds you what a shit place the world is. Especially compared to those movies."

Matthew nodded, not looking at him.

"Sometimes you have to wonder how people can live up here, you know?"

"Humans are resilient. You'd be surprised how much pain they can take."

Matthew scowled at the morbid phrase but had to admit it was true. Then again, he remembered Ian dying in Necropolis, or Daren Hightower slowly seizing his struggles and dying after merely a cut in the right place... It was easy to kill a man...

He realized where his train of thoughts was going, shook his head to clear it and started putting the books into his backpack.

Sophia was no longer in the room the two had left her in, and instead they found her just by the security room with robots, standing next to an actual working console.

"Wow, you got one working?" Matthew smiled, genuinely happy for her.

"Yeah," she replied, a smile of relief on her face. "You were right about the wiring getting damaged. This is a security console; the wire-work for them is laid out differently to ensure they remain functional no matter what."

"Anything good on it?"

"Yes and no," Sophia sighed. "There's never any useful knowledge in a security console, but..."

She stepped aside and let the two men read the message that had popped up on the screen: 'Warning! Security system power supply malfunction detected! Please activate primary power supply in order to activate security.'

"Security's toast," Sophia smiled. "At least as long as primary's down. And when primary went down, a third power system got activated, evacuation grid. It opened all the doors and kept the elevator working. It should also power some lights, but it seems the circuits are too damaged."

Matthew clenched his teeth.

"Those Brotherhood guys went down there too and got killed while security was down in this level like now.'

"I took a look at the logs on this terminal. When the bomb fell on the facility, the wires to robot charging bays got broken, and now, after eighty years, they're all out of juice despite having been on standby, and there's no way they can be reactivated again, at least without taking them to a working bay. That's why they don't work. The security systems in the lower levels, however, have been working... up until recently. I think the security grid went down during or after the Brotherhood's visit."

"That's way too dangerous," Matthew objected.

"And since when is anything ever easy and safe on the outside?" Sophia countered, a hint of anger and sadness in her voice.

I know that, he thought, feeling insulted. Then again I'm not acting like it... why?

Refusing to take a chance, Matthew compared the date of the security grid going down with the date of the last diary entry and found out that the grid went down two months after the ill-fated expedition.

He sighed heavily, both his companions' eyes upon him. In the back of his mind he registered this as an unexpected revelation that they recognized him as the leader but he no longer cared about it. He had to keep his companions safe, and they, Sophia at least, were making it hard.

On the other hand, he'd thought they've been doing well enough so far, but at that moment beneath the ground in the Glow it started to look to him like they still lacked a lot of skills, equipment and experience to _really_ be safe in the world above.

"Baby steps," he relented bitterly. "We run like hell at the first sign of trouble. And we don't stay a minute longer than we have to."

Steven nodded dryly and Sophia smiled broadly. He prayed to God it was the right decision. The three returned to the elevator. There was a pit in his stomach and for some reason he felt too afraid to even breathe, but nonetheless he pressed the button marked '3' and prayed for the best.


	24. March, Part One

She didn't really know why they came into the town. The lead night-kin said something about snatching some humans and getting some rest before some big job. She just shrugged: she wasn't really getting what her new... friends? allies? were doing but she was convinced they knew better. She thought about asking about all these things and getting involved but something stopped her. She didn't know what.

One of the buildings, her metallic friend Rhonda informed her, was called an 'academy', and the big rooms there, 'auditoriums'. She sat in one such, behind a desk where almost a century ago some lecturer or another would have stood, with a hundred desks of rusted metal and decaying wood facing her, and scowled in confusion. First of all, Rhonda passed out a couple of times the last few days. That raised concern. As much as her not wanting to discuss it with Tabitha. Rhonda started acting weirder with each such falling asleep, and then this morning she invited her to come to the 'auditorium' to sit down.

The day was a hot and sunny one but the spacious room was cool and shady, shutters keeping the Sun from shining in through the windows, though many of its rays have made their way inside through ample cracks of the top-story walls and ceiling, decorating the air with brilliant ethereal columns and the floors and broken pre-war furniture with spots of gold that Tabitha found so enchanting to watch. The longer she sat, the more her worries dissipated, replaced by calm, a feeling, she realized fleetingly, she hadn't experienced for quite a while; ever since her change, she would've realized if she had the presence of mind. A light monotone whir was coming from Rhonda as she lay on the old table next to her, giving some background sound. When the Sun was past its zenith, Tabitha was as calm as she could be, her mind drifting nowhere in particular, though always brushing close to some memory she once held dear but couldn't recall at that moment.

The propulsion engine on Rhonda suddenly came to life as the robot drifted slowly to the window and back again.

"The normals are leaving, Mistress," it informed the mutant. "They're off to join our cause."

Tabitha nodded.

"I hope the Lieutenant _really_ gives them a piece of his mind," the mutant opined, sounding a bit childish. "The man has been working so hard to create Unity for All and these _troublemakers_ just run around causing all kinds of shenanigans!"

"You did well in capturing them, though," the robot complimented as it slowly descended upon the desk and set itself back to its old position.

"Thank you, Rhonda," the mutant nodded politely while her heart jumped up in her chest. Her friend always had objections about the way she dealt with the unruly ones but she could never quite understand. Her comrades always boast about how dangerous they are, how they can club a ruckus-maker to a bloody pulp without effort, and Tabitha found the thought to be pretty fun, but Rhonda was always upset when she did that, saying they cannot learn the error of their ways if they're just bloody puddles, but it was so confusing! Rhonda was telling her to follow the instructions of the night-kin with a brahmin skull on the head, and he always tells to be aggressive, but in the end Rhonda gets mad because she listened to the man like she said? What was she supposed to make of that?! But then, after the first passing out, Rhonda advised that if she subdued the naughty people by slapping them around it would do the job and the skull-guy would be happy – and it was so! They were outright terrified by the backhands and spanks she gave these young criminals! Go Tabitha!

"I didn't spank them too hard?" The mutant asked, fishing for another compliment like a child.

"Well, some of them won't be joining us, unfortunately," Rhonda responded in that wise and grown-up voice she suddenly acquired these last few days. "But all in all it was pretty good. No bloody puddles."

"No bloody puddles," Tabitha echoed, giggling. "I love you, Rhonda, you're so funny!"

"Can you tell me about this woman you named me after, again?" The robot requested. "I _love_ hearing about her."

Tabitha sighed. A white hot anger was suddenly starting to surface from deep within her gut, but then her gaze drifted to the sun-spots and she became aware of the peaceful surroundings and started feeling at ease again, her mind almost grasping that memory. And she wasn't angry any more, for some reason, just... guilty, of all things.

"Well," the mutant started, "Rhonda was a beautiful princess who lived in the High Tower above the Town. The townspeople, they were your average people, but they would always... trip down and fall. That's right. They would trip over and fall down in the street and that was becoming a bother, what with all the people lying on the ground, and cussing as they got up. And if there was, like, a trash can blown away by the wind in the street, they knew they'd trip over it and fall, so started pushing all the other people on it so they'd be the ones to fall instead. So in short, they weren't friends, and that made the princess sad. You see, Rhonda was a dreamer but her mother was a fairy godmother and she blessed her with the ability to watch her step. And she wanted to teach all the other people to watch their step but it was going badly..." Tabitha made a sad face.

"Rhonda sounds like a truly magical lady," the robot opined.

"No," Tabitha waved her hand, suddenly humbled for some strange reason, "she was just lucky to be the daughter of her fairy godmother who taught her how to avoid tripping over. It's nothing special, really, you just have to be careful."

"So she taught the people not to trip over?"

"She tried..." Tabitha sighed. "But people were so busy pushing each other on obstacles that they couldn't make the time. Their knees were all bruised, you see, and they were scared and not-happy and didn't listen to the princess."

"That is sad. People should know better. Princess Rhonda should have been more stern with them."

"She had a soft heart," the mutant sighed. "She would always dream about all those fairy-tale lands her mother godmother told her about. And... she was in love..." Tabitha giggled.

"But she didn't have a soft heart any more by the end, right?" Rhonda asked.

"I won't say," she replied coyly. "Wait until the end! So anyway, she was in love. With a man, he had some fairy godmother blood in him too, or maybe he _was_ one, I'm not sure how it goes. But when they were together, they would go into the fairy godmother land together when they fucked."

She paused, looking around as if something went wrong before continuing.

"But one day, Tabitha came into town." She sighed.

"Don't you mean _you_ came into town?"

"Hmph? Oh! Oh yes! Yes, _I _came into town. I was a... a baddie. I pushed people over. Everything Rhonda did was in vain because Tabitha would trip people over and then they'd be too angry to listen to her again. Tabitha was also known as Eagle Eyes, you know. Eyes on the Prize. She always walked very confidently to wherever she was going and she was very good and pushing people over so she'd walk over them and not trip."

"Is Tabitha still you?"

"Yes! Yes I am that... meanie Tabitha!"

"Anyway," she continued, "the prince, the one Rhonda was in love with, he looked upon Tabitha's... _my_ eagle eyes and fell in love with me, sweet sweet magical love with me. And he left the princess so he could _fuck_ me instead. And when people came and told him that Rhonda was kidnapped by trolls he couldn't hear her over my huge tits flapping around. And so Rhonda died," Tabitha shrugged.

The room was quiet for a moment. Tabitha admired the mosaic of sunlight in the 'auditorium' while wondering how come the story didn't make her sad or angry any more. Maybe she just heard it or told it one too many times, or maybe she just grew up. Who knows.

"It's a sad story," Rhonda said sombrely. Tabitha shrugged.

"I don't think it's all true, though."

"Really?"

"No. If Rhonda was such a beautiful princess, the prince wouldn't have left her alone. And she was timid. She should've spanked these ignorant townsfolk around! She could take a page from Tabitha's book... _my _book. I am strong. I am focused and smart, that's why Ian made sweet sweet love to me and not her, she was dumb, really. I'd much rather be Eagle-Eyes Tabitha than Rhonda the Princess."

"Because she got the prince in the end?"

"I..." Suddenly Tabitha found herself confused. She shook her head and grasped for what she was thinking. She grasped the sting of a thought and pulled it, not sure if it was the one she was looking for, but as she pulled it and looked at it it was so good it just _had_ to be the one. "Tabitha had what it took to end up with the prince. She was the real princess. Rhonda was just... a sad sight."

Both friends went quiet as Rhonda, Tabitha had no doubt, turned it over in her head. She felt slightly ashamed, realizing that she just said that _she _was the princess and the pretty and smart one. She thought about saying something to convince her friend she wasn't some braggart, but then decided that it didn't really matter in the end. She was Tabitha Eagle-Eyes and had her Eyes on the Prize and not making excuses: in the end her actions would speak louder than words.

"What has Eagle-Eyes Tabitha set her sights on this time?" Rhonda asked.

The mutant thought about it.

"Teaching people not to trip." She replied. "Because Rhonda was weak but right and she feels sorry about her dying... I mean she must be, right?"

* * *

><p>Irwin<p>

2161-03-31 02:46 PM

Irwin was a small settlement about 60 kilometres north-east from the Hub, a collection small cornfields with ruins of derelict pre-war buildings jutting out from the sickly-looking crops. There was a line of steep rocks to the east that cast its shadow upon the settlement, making the metal-barrel fires stand out.

I've been here, Tycho suddenly realized, that's where I ran down that criminal, Mason Black.

Wait, that was in Nevada.

He started rummaging through his head and realized he was indeed thinking of another place far away. I suppose when you're as old as me places start looking the same, he shrugged it off, reappraising the settlement.

The shanty-homes of the local residents, Tycho noted, were all demolished: not burnt down as one would expect, but literally smashed into pieces. The barrel fires were going around one flat block with a military look to it, and the ranger deduced it was where the foes have set up their base.

"They're probably in that house with the fires around it," a man next to Tycho opined.

The ranger looked him up and down. The man, Kyle, was in the same super-mutant hunting crew as Tycho, the one who ran off to warn a nearby caravan and didn't see any of the real action. The man had long hair, something Ian had put into fashion some time ago, and a bulky build. He was pretty good with that assault rifle on his back but despite everyone believing that a survivor of the hunt was a formidable warrior, Kyle was a decent grunt at best and a severely under-qualified leader, which was probably why the Sheriff practically begged _Tycho_ to lead a small force to Irwin.

"Who do you think is in there?" Tycho asked evenly.

"Mutants or survivors," Kyle shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

"If there were survivors," Tycho explained patiently, "they would be working to rebuild their homes right now."

Kyle squinted at the settlement below and only then seemed to notice all of the destroyed homes.

"Yeah, makes sense," he shrugged, then looked at the flat block and tensed up. "So we're going in to that block... To fight the remaining mutants?"

Tycho nodded.

"It'll be fine," he assured, inclining his head towards ten more mercenaries that were waiting behind them.

"Guess I just can't escape a fight with those meat-heads," Kyle attempted at humour.

Tycho nodded again and returned to the other mercenaries, the long-haired Crimson merc half a step behind him, trying to look like he's as much in charge as Tycho.

"We'll scout the area!" The ranger announced, words coming out mechanically after so many years of various fights. "I need the people with the sharpest eyes to go from here to the cliffs and back and see if there are any mutant watch-posts around their main base in the dormitories. Elaine, Daryl, Keith, you'll go along the southern side, Carl, Tessa, you'll go along the north. We'll set up camp in the gas station we passed by fifteen minutes ago. I want everyone to be at their best before we do this. Joel, Michelle, you'll take care of the food, Liam, you'll double-check the guns, Brent, Kyle, get everyone's packs ready for going in, Kelly, stay here and keep watch on the town. Should any mutants notice the scouts or start moving anywhere, I want you to report as fast as you can.

From the corner of his eye Tycho noticed Kyle frown, as if he found being ordered around distasteful. After all, he rode high on being one of the legendary mutant-slayers. He felt like he should say something, make the man look past his pride and become the best he could be, but he was wary to do so. He was a drifter all his life, travelling from town to town bringing justice, and all he could ever do to a person in need of such help was to say something smart or encouraging and move on. And the only time he tried to help someone who was actually a companion of his, he failed as far as he was concerned.

The preparations in the gas station were slow and silent, everybody's minds half on their jobs and half on the task ahead. In a couple of hours the ranger returned to the post near the old settlement to hear the scouts' reports, then plan their way around the three spotted sentries inside dilapidated buildings. He dismissed the mercenaries and stayed at the post to keep watch, asking to arrange for someone to relieve him in an hour.

And an hour later Kyle came.

"We're going down there before the dawn," The ranger stated. "Are you scared?"

"A little bit," the mercenary shrugged seemingly uncaring, but the ranger could tell he was tense.

"_I_ am," he admitted.

Kyle frowned. "You are?"

"I am. We barely got away with our lives in that factory, meeting these foes scares me."

Kyle turned away, considering what he'd heard.

"Everyone's scared," the ranger continued, slowly and carefully, at the same time trying to figure out why he was doing this. "And that's just our minds telling us to stay alert, to be cautious. Nothing to be ashamed of."

The mercenary nodded absent-mindedly.

"Fear isn't bad, it's even useful," Tycho stated as he stood up and started towards the gas station. "It's about what you do with it."

Going back to their camp Tycho caught himself thinking, almost planning, about how he could make the young man see that it was better to admit his shortcomings than live in lies. He scolded himself but kept thinking about it, realizing he'll probably have a couple more talks with the man.

His face dropped upon returning to the gas station and seeing the faces of the mercenaries. They were trying to go to sleep but instead were staring at the ceiling, fidgeting, no doubt thinking about tomorrow over and over. As he lied down, he asked, "where's Carl and Tessa?"

No one answered. It was obvious. The ranger went to bed thinking whether he should push the subject any further upon his return. Someone should set these people straight.

He sighed and suddenly realized how tired he was. First it was Matt and that brief inner struggle with tolerating the Thieves' Guild, then it was about guiding the mercenaries to becoming better people, finding a way to make Demetre and Kirren's plans employ better means, and finally a plethora of small matters like all these arguments with Tabitha, defaulting mercenaries and power grabs by taking over old shop space. He'd always stood on the side of good and always fought to make things better, but suddenly just thinking about all this work, all these things he always did, even organizing expeditions to battle mutants, has become tiresome.

I've seen a lot of years, he thought, maybe I should settle down.

But a part of him didn't want to, he still believed things could get better. Sometimes when he would come into a town offering counsel and justice things got better once he was done in a town, but as soon as he arrived into another one, or returned to the same place some time later, it was the same story all over again. People just don't learn.

He was troubled and had a big battle coming up tomorrow but he fell asleep as soon as he lied down, no doubt becoming that much more of a bad-ass wasteland legend in the eyes of the mercenaries.

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-03-31 11:49 PM

The first time she'd heard Charlie's plan, or rather, a sketch of a plan, she shrugged and decided they'd work it out. So she agreed to go to Junktown with him. The Children had an outpost there and it would be easier to snoop around there since everyone knew both of them in the Hub. It was only when they approached the Crash House that Tabitha muttered an angry 'fuck' and stopped in her tracks. Charlie found the whole story about her shooting a guy while he was distracted by her naked body amusing but admitted that after a stunt like that there was no way she wouldn't be recognised. That was why she was confined to the room of a smaller, more foul-smelling hotel while the other caravan guard was out collecting information. _Hopefully_ collecting information, she thought as she laid out her collection of clothes before her, thinking of a decent disguise. The man was a good fighter but his eager pecker could prove to be a liability in situations that need a more delicate touch.

I could probably pretend to be a ghoul, she thought, taking another look at her clothes. Officially, everyone was welcome here, though in reality there were so few ghouls venturing out of the Necropolis that people weren't used to them, and that would be a good way to attract attention. They wouldn't recognize me if I said I was a ghoul, put on a hood and some gloves, a scarf, and talk real raspy, but I'd certainly be noticed, and there's only so much I could do with such a disguise.

She thought about other possibilities for a disguise but eventually her thoughts drifted to Charlie. She wouldn't have trusted the man with such a delicate job but it could be that he stood a better chance. He was muscular, broad-shouldered and ginger-haired, and pretty good looking as well. Well, maybe not _that _good looking but definitely charismatic once he'd had a chance to speak with you... Anyway, he was someone who stood out by his appearance so he wasn't a good choice for covert work.

Tabitha sighed. Looks and libido considered, Charlie working in disguise could go either way and she would be calmer, if nothing else, if she did it herself. Besides, she _knew_ she could improvise way better than Charlie if things don't go as planned, like they inevitably do. Yes, it would be better if she took care of it personally.

Okay, think about it from the other end, she told herself. What's the location? An outpost in that old building where the town's doctor used to reside. The important stuff would be kept in the basement so there's no possibility of breaking in, only subterfuge. Their target would be a journal or something kept by the leader of this group. 'A journal or something' Tabitha rolled her eyes in irritation. Having spent time hanging at that church Charlie noticed Jain write something down at the end of every day and lock it away in her office. She wished the man would've checked it out instead of risking both their necks on such a wild guess but he's not cut out for this sort of stuff. All the more reason for _her _to take care of things.

They would need to gain access to the basement where the sleeping and office areas are. If she could at least have some sort of unhindered access to the top floor – the sick bay – she'd probably be able to work it out from there. Maybe pretend to be a potential member? Maybe the contrary, pretend to know more than she did and force the leader of the group into seeing her in person, in his office, next to where the 'journal or something' was kept?

The door opening broke her train of thoughts. Charlie walked into the room, a faint smile on his face and his cheeks a bit flush, mischief in his eyes.

"So," Tabitha frowned, "got any information in between the shots?"

"Not much," he shrugged with a smile and started looking at the clothes laid on the bed.

"So?" The woman demanded. "Have you found _anything_ out?"

"As I said, not much," he shrugged again, in that light-hearted fashion that always ground her gears.

"They're pretty quiet here," he said as he sat down next to Tabitha in that bold way of his, their legs touching and him breathing whiskey at her face. "They set up shop a small while ago. Came into town, preached at the streets, then the doctor died and they took over the place. Haven't been preaching _that_ much since then, rather people come to them to get fixed up and they get a sermon as a free extra," he smiled. "Not like anyone here cares about it."

She sighed in frustration.

"How easy do you think it would be to pretend to join them?" She tested.

He laughed.

"Not much harder or easier than any other group, I'd reckon."

Tabitha scowled.

"They aren't _looking_ for new members but they accept anyone who's willing to join, so it's, you know, like anything else, same ways of getting in could be used."

"A nice non-answer," Tabitha scolded, "but maybe you would like to enlighten me as to these 'any other ways'?"

Charlie positively grinned

"Aw, come on, you know!'"

"I don't," Tabitha whispered, narrowing her eyes and doing her best silent-but-very-fucking-pissed routine. "Do you?"

"I do," Charlie said, a smug grin on his face.

"No you don't," she stood up and took a second look at her clothes, if only to get away from that shit-eating grin. "_I'll_ have to come up with something then."

"Okay," she could _feel_ him grinning and definitely hear him lying down in the bed. "But I really think the 'ol breaking-in-the-brahmin thing _would_ work in this case."

"The what now?" She turned around to find his gaze go up to her eyes, definitely from her ass. His grin widened.

"You go in, all tears and sharp nails, hysterical, trying to claw the eyes out of any of those children you come across, shouting about how your husband bought the farm from a super-mutant, they calm you down, give you a pat on the back, you start crying, they take advantage of your vulnerable state and start converting you. In the meantime, you have an eye on the inside and maybe a chance to strike."

Tabitha paused.

"That might work. _Might_ work..."

Charlie narrowed his eyes and regarded her with a cheeky grin.

"Of _course _it will work! Approach people with a smile and warm cookies and they will be suspicious right away. Approach them with tears and rage and people will see it as a challenge, then try to beat you, and if they beat you, they'll lower their guard _so_ fucking much!"

She looked at him, slowly blinking, sleepy, lying on the bed all confident. His very demeanour made Tabitha distrust what he was saying; some lazy horny drunk who only fucks around like him couldn't possibly come up with a decent plan of action... Then again, she turned his plan over a couple of times in her head and had to admit it sounded pretty good.

"Okay," she said slowly, seeing a smug satisfied grin blooming on his face a second before it did. "Let's try that."

She turned her back to him, picked up her clothes from her bed, folded them one by one and put them all back in a duffel bag, feeling the man's eyes on her ass the whole time. Her clothes packed, she unbuttoned her trench-coat and thrust her shoulders back as if she was going to drop the piece of apparel on the floor, but turned around and looked at the man before doing that, expecting to get a reason to vent at the man.

Charlie, however, was fast asleep.

* * *

><p>The Glow<p>

2161-03-31 04:29 PM

The vault dwellers, even Sophia, who was so eager for them to continue their descent, stepped out of the elevator slowly and took a careful look around the room they found themselves in before carefully inching towards the door to the next room, which would be, without a doubt, a security checkpoint. Which is to say, a room full of killer robots. Steven was about to go in first when Matthew quickly and silently walked past him and took a look inside. When, a couple of moments later, the physician walked into the room, Steven just followed without question.

The robots were lying on the floor on their sides, like litter. He passed them by steadily even though he kept a close and twitchy eye on the collapsed figures. His companions were frightened, he could tell, but as far as Steven was concerned they'd hit a hell of a lucky break with this facility. People up there had to take a lot greater risks for a lot less gain.

Despite them having agreed that Matthew would bring up the rear when they were expecting trouble, the young physician was now taking point, his hand on his pistol holster. A sniper is of no use in an underground facility, Steven reasoned, but still, it was unusual for Matthew to take so much initiative. The brunette walked with determination until, rounding a corner, he suddenly slowed to halt,.

Usually, that would have been a sign of danger for Steven and he would have drawn his weapon. He mentally slapped himself on the forehead when he realised he hadn't and forced himself to concentrate. He'd never admit it but this place wasn't exactly not affecting him.

Rounding the corner Steven saw what had stopped Matthew, and Sophia a second later, in their tracks. Two figures were slumped in the corridor, both clad in Power Armour. One of them was simply sat, his back at the wall, with a big black hole on his solar plexus, something having melted the armour away like it was nothing. The other lay sprawled on the floor, his armoured right hand further away from the rest of the body. Splatters of dry blood covered the floor and walls and the security guard realized someone had a field day with that man and a weapon akin to a Ripper: he was pretty certain a simple Ripper couldn't tear someone in power armour apart so easily, though if you consider the strength a robot can muster and modify the weapon a bit with that point in mind...

The security guard felt awkward when he realized that this sight should inspire fear, not curiosity.

They searched the two bodies, Matthew immediately taking it upon himself to check the one who was torn to pieces. Sophia found another plasma pistol on the body that sat by the wall, and the man's primary weapon, a Minigun, laid a couple of meters further down the hall. The bulky weapon had taken a lot of punishment from a plasma weapon, most likely a rifle, and was completely non-functional. The other man's plasma rifle had received similar treatment the man did, though his secondary weapon, a Ripper, funnily enough, was in a good shape. The fact that it was still clutched in the severed arm explained how _that_ weapon of his avoided damage.

Sophia was collecting energy cells from the other Brotherhood soldier and putting them in her pockets for easy access while Matthew waited for her, his flash-light on the man's gun on the ground, but gaze upon Sophia's face. She looks a bit frightened, Steven realized, and considering how incredibly tough she's managed to act lately it was quite disheartening. Steven looked at Matthew as well, but his face was cold stone, no trace of fear or doubt. Which, as far as Steven knew the man, was probably false.

Neither of them had even tried to check out how _he_ was doing. They'd know the answer. Had his companions only been able to realize what their limits were and had the good judgement to stop before doing something they were incapable of there would be no need for them to try and determine whether the others were alright mentally, and they didn't need to worry about Steven because they knew he was smart enough to speak up, though somehow instead of feeling appreciated he felt left out. He groaned inwardly. Maybe these two were getting to him.

They inspected the floor, which was probably some sort of storage, with the walls of most rooms lined with cabinets and shelves. They found all sorts of ammo here: 10mm for their side-arms, .223 FMJ for Matthew's rifle and 5mm for Steven's. The blonde offered the most evil grin when he recognised the bullets as armour-piercing. There were forty small energy cells to be found for Sophia's new armaments, some more 14mm for the pistols they'd found and even .44 magnum FMJ, which they bagged since these were pretty rare and expensive.

Their back-packs were heavier when the three people stood in front of another elevator, this one's doors rimmed with red paint, and managed to call it after inserting a red key-card they'd found on the second floor. But the increased weight actually made their steps lighter. Sophia seemed a lot more relaxed now that the going deeper idea was paying off, and Matthew was definitely a _lot_ easier now. Steven supposed that no matter what priorities they claimed and whether or not actually practised, getting a lucky break like that was bound to make them happy and a lot more easy. Hell, even Steven found himself a little more confident, more on account of the AP bullets for his rifle than all the money they'd be getting, but he managed to reel it in. The three squeezed into the next elevator.

The fourth level was cleaner than the others, the walls here were closer to steel in colour, but the air was a lot heavier as well, and it seemed that the darkness was a thick haze too. It was almost like travelling back in time to a dark age, which each level being less affected by the passage of time but seemingly darker and more crushing. The trio made their way through the level a bit faster than travelled through the one before. This one wasn't a storage level like the previous ones and Sophia immediately tried switching on a console, though to no avail.

Steven thought his heart would jump out of his throat when a minute later he saw a blinking light in the edge of his vision. He immediately drew his rifle and fell on one knee while Matthew turned around, saw the light, and pointed his flash-light at it, somehow calmer than the security guard.

"Fuck me sideways!" Sophia cursed in awe as she approached the object Matthew's light was pointing at. Steven frowned and holstered his weapon. The thing was a cylinder laid on its side, lights protruding from the chassis chaotically and strands of wires jutting out, and diving back into the strange object somewhere else. There was a large monitor on the side of a cylinder, with a keyboard underneath it and an old chair in front of it.

"What's that?" Steven asked, eyeing the thing tensely.

"It's a Z.A.X.," Sophia replied, beaming as she sat down at the chair. "It's an artificial intelligence. A super-computer, basically speaking," she tapped a few buttons and a wall of text appeared on the screen. The vault's security officer was way too weary to even try to read it.

"You have a good one, then," Steven said as he turned around. "I'll see if there's anything else around here."

Most of the rooms on the fourth level were occupied by various machines and what seemed to be autopsy tables. There were huge glass cylinders along the walls in some of the rooms too, a dark green liquid filling them up and wires and strange machinery writhing around the container. Steven approached one and tried to see what was inside, but the liquid was way to viscous and dark. He figured it was for the best.

He found an old storage room and inside it another assault rifle with 5mm AP ammo, though he was happier with the three pulse grenades he found in another locker. He put them in his bandoleer so they would be close at hand.

Returning to the 'Z.A.X.' room he found both his companions entranced by the wall of text on the screen they'd been reading and he had half a mind to take out his pistol and accidentally shoot at the wall to teach about awareness, but instead he just leaned at the doorway so he could see the corridors and asked, "anything good?"

Neither even turned.

"This is fascinating..." Matthew said, his voice gravelly like he was in some sort of trance. "And scary as hell. They were developing a vaccine for the New Plague here but ended up creating some virus similar to the New Plague."

Steven nodded. Seemingly a lifetime ago, back in the vault, Steven was reading up on how the police forces before the war used to handle various situations, especially when deployed in American towns, when he came upon the name 'New Plague', several times. Matthew was right, it was scary and fascinating. The disease had broken out in the Mid-West, with Denver being hit the worst. The economy was in the shitter, there were barely any resources left on Earth, and suddenly this fatal disease breaks out. He'd always seen the New Plague as a sort of a prologue to the War, a time when the world was still wasn't scorched by nuclear fire, but the people were acting, as he later found out, like post-apocalyptic wastelanders, or worse. There was mass panic, looting, burnings, and the police as well as the army were deployed in the cities most devastated by the disease to get the crowd under control. Queue mass desertion, introduction of mechanised police forces – robotic dogs, Securitrons, and even an occasional Gutsy – and the entire thing started to look as bad the War itself.

"They developed a virus similar to the New Plague?" Steven asked, half of his mind still in the stories of the days before.

"It was similar at first but it became very different in time," Sophia replied absent-mindedly, writing something on the keyboard. "FEV, Forced Evolutionary Virus, meant to turn humans into super-soldiers."

"Did it?"

"Don't know," Matthew replied, sighing and turning away from the computer to his companion. "They only tested it on animals here before shipping it off to a place called 'Mariposa'."

"Do you think the super-mutants could be the product of this virus?"

"Could be that," Matthew shrugged, "could be plain old radiation. If we found out where this Mariposa place was, we could probably go and see."

"Won't be easy," Sophia stated as she stood up. "Z.A.X. can't tell me where Mariposa is. 'You're a nice lady, but that's classified' he says."

"Got anything good?" The blonde asked.

Sophia frowned.

"Research reports, downloaded them all but I doubt they'd be useful to anyone without a place like this in pristine condition and running smoothly. Need some more basic information."

"We'd found some books before..." Matthew offered.

"Come on," she interrupted, suddenly raising her voice, "we can do _way_ better than that in this place, let's keep going!"

Matthew sighed and nodded and the three returned to the elevator, which, for some reason, didn't go to the fifth floor and the only one they could go to was the sixth.

A brief walk through the floor confirmed Steven's hunch that the deeper they went the more disturbing this place would get. The hallways here were pristine steel, spotless, and everything almost seemed to be in working order. There was no hint of the smell of ash here, but the air was heavy with the stench of dust and decaying cloth. Level Six was mostly residential: the first area they went to was a small maze of narrow hallways with a plethora of small living quarters, all seemingly untouched except for that smell. Of all the things he'd seen down here thus far, seeing those rooms, rooms where people actually lived, felt sacrilegious. The young security guard never felt as unwelcome as he was at that moment.

And the dead bodies. The fire of the nuclear bomb didn't affect this floor. Those who died here died of radiation poisoning, vomiting in their bathrooms, vomiting in their beds, vomiting on the hallway floor – the bodies were everywhere, 80-year old mummies, a reminder of how brittle people were. They didn't rummage around the dorms for long before deciding that with the time it took to look through the rooms wasn't worth what little could be found here so they started looking through the other sections of the floor.

They came across the generator room on their search, and a lone functional console stood by the complicated-looking machinery. Sophia approached it confidently and booted it up.

"The generator's bust, just like the ZAX said," she informed them a few taps on the keyboard later. "The problem's with the machinery here."

"The computer told you something more about this place?" Steven queried.

"A bit," Matthew shrugged. "He told us the best loot is in the fifth level, but one can only go there via a code-blue elevator, and that won't work with primary power off."

"So you want to switch it back on?" Steven asked, tense. "Won't this activate the security robots?"

Matthew sighed wearily, like a person who's been living in sleepless worry for a while now.

"Yeah, ZAX gave us some advice on that, too. It said that we could deactivate the robots while the power is off, go down here, and leave one of us behind here to switch off the power when the other two arrive at fifth. He said that if we turn the power off twenty seconds after the elevator closes it should be fine," he said in a coarse voice, looking at the back of Sophia's head as he spoke, as if he was irritated with her.

"Sounds pretty risky. No hope for a back-up plan?"

"No. Pulse grenades, maybe?"

The young physician didn't like the idea, it was obvious to him, but somehow he kept going with it and dedicating his entire mind to successfully looting this place instead of running away. Admirable.

"I'll try and take a look at this, you go ahead and destroy the robots," Sophia said, rolling her sleeves.

"Can you even do that?" Steven asked.

"I'll manage," Sophia smiled. "It's not my forte but I _have_ looked up a thing or two about computers and electronics back in the vault. Besides, ZAX gave me the schematics to the thing so how hard can it be?"

The two men nodded and proceeded to the security room in front of the blue elevator, where a quartet of robots lay sprawled on the floor.

"So... drag them in a pile and put a pulse grenade there?" Matthew offered.

"No, too wasteful" Steven said, put down his back-pack and drew a couple of screwdrivers. "The plating is sturdy, would take a lot of force to penetrate. But if we can open them up we can just switch them off."

"How did you learn _that_?" Matthew asked, impressed.

"I wasn't exactly on vacation all that time in the Hub," the blonde shrugged.

He knelt before a robot and started unscrewing the rear panel, Matthew looking at his work and trying to do the same.

"Why do you both refer to that computer as a he?" Steven asked, coming off as just making idle conversation instead of actually caring.

"Well, he- _it_ is an artificial intelligence, not completely a human but... he sounds close. He talked with Sophia for a while, said... said that it was lonely, after all these years with all the people here dead."

"It couldn't deactivate the security?"

"No," Matthew cast him a brief glance. "Like with Mariposa, it was classified. And it's an AI, either you hack it in five seconds or h- it realises what you're doing and gets pissed. And it can't go against its programming no matter how much he wants to."

Steven nodded.

"You don't really think ZAX is a human, do you?" Matthew asked.

"He isn't, though."

"No," he agreed, seeming to become a bit melancholy. "But he can still think and perceive things to a level, probably as well as we can based on what he said..."

"It really got your panties in a twist, huh?"

Matthew paused and looked at him, then smiled.

"It got to me, you know," his smile faded. "This whole place has. Somehow it's more depressing than all those people struggling to survive up there."

"It's their life and they live it," Steven shrugged. "Only those who recall the old days or have lived back then take it so hard."

Matthew laughed.

"And you're neither?"

"I've moved on."

With both men having some small amount of experience in repairing machinery, it took the three vault dwellers an hour of collective effort to repair the generator after the robots were out of commission, and when it turned out that both of them have individually decided that Sophia was the one to stay behind and work the console the woman immediately started protesting. Only Matthew pointing out that there was only loot and no information like what she was after in level five made the woman relent.

"Half an hour," she said. "Counting from the door of the elevator closing. I'll keep it on for one minute. If you're not back up by then I'll keep switching the power on for a minute every fifteen minutes."

The two men nodded and emptied their back-packs in order to be able to collect the loot freely, then approached the elevator.

It was as if the entire ancient structure shook lightly when the generator spurred into life and all the lights turned on, drenching the place in an oppressive, monotonous fluorescent illumination. Steven felt a bit tense as he stepped into the now working elevator and ascended one level to the fifth.

The two men exited the elevator painfully slowly and soon the whole place seemingly shuddered as the lights went off. Steven was reminded that this was an old ruin and wasn't exactly structurally sound anymore, what with a nuke having detonated at the top.

They passed two security rooms here, with twice as many robots as anywhere else. The level was the testing labs, Matthew informed him, and research on advanced weaponry had been carried out here. There was a lot of complicated equipment here and the two men decided not to touch this, instead looking for the promised storage areas. And they found it, a large room with some machinery at its centre and a long row of lockers along the wall. They had only went through five of them when they found the mother-load. Both men froze as the sixth locker revealed to have a set of combat armour inside.

"Wicked," Matthew smiled as he picked up the set and inspected it. "Lighter than it looks."

The armour, made up of several layers of polymers, painted green and with a small West-Tek logo on the chest, didn't appear to be very sturdy and protective but its defensive abilities were legendary. Steven opened up the next five lockers quickly and found two more suits, in addition to a load of drugs.

"You put it on, I'll stand by." Steven suggested. "If something goes wrong I don't want to face it with both of our pants down."

Matthew undressed quickly and started putting on the armour. It had a lot of clasps and nuances to the order of pieces to be put on and Steven ended up helping him.

"Let me guess," Matthew chuckled. "Additional research into your trade?"

"Yes," he replied evenly. "Always wanted to wear a set. Was fed up when I went outside and still couldn't find one."

Matthew laughed and Steven offered him a weird smile.

The facility shook slightly and the lights went on.

The two men froze in place.

"I thought we had five more minutes?"

"We do," Steven confirmed. He shoved the other two suits of armour into his backpack along with the leg-guards of Matthew's armour that the man hadn't put on yet, picked up his rifle, loaded it with AP bullets, and offered Matthew a pulse grenade. "Better than you shooting a sniper rifle here," he whispered. The two of them just stood there pointing their guns at the open door.

"If something goes through that door, throw the grenade and run for cover," Steven commanded. "These things are way too deadly."

Returning power also brought back the buzzing of the old fluorescent lights and the varied beeps from personal consoles, the chugging of some of the machines in the labs and, seemingly, in the walls. Every sharper sound sent another dose of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"Target acquired," a pleasant woman's voice came from the door a second before a Robo-brain, plasma rifle in hand, appeared in the door way. Steven jumped for cover before even considering firing at it, but Matthew stayed in his place and threw the grenade at the robot.

"Move!" Steven exclaimed as Matthew stood in place after throwing the grenade, waiting for it to explode.

"Target lost. Searching," the woman's voice informed a second before the grenade emitted a sharp screech and a series of small pops sounded from where the robot stood, out of Steven's field of sight.

"Matt!" He called out to his companion, who stood there with confusion on his face. He turned and looked back at Steven as a pair of Eye-bots raced past him ignoring him completely, their cattle-prods aimed at Steven.

"Fuck!" The man cursed and activated a pulse grenade on his bandoleer, throwing the last one away without activating it so it wouldn't detonate.

The world flashed white as an Eye-bot's cattle prod made contact with his leather armour. His knees gave way and he fell on the floor. A second later, the grenade emitted the same screech and his vision suddenly doubled and went blurry. A massive sensation of vertigo came over him and he threw up on the floor the same instant the two robots fell, their circuits fried. The vault security guard closed his eyes, trying to muster the strength to dispel his nausea but he suddenly realized that all that effort was just the thing that kept him from losing his consciousness. Stand up, fucker, he commanded himself but his knees refused to follow the command. Another wave of nausea washed over him and he scolded himself maybe a dozen more times. Come on, fucker, you're not dying this easy, he thought, you've survived worse. He took deep and slow controlled breaths trying to steady himself and, in the back of his head, kept hoping Matthew was alive and could do something about the last Robo-brain. However, as he heard no report of a sniper rifle, the only conclusion was that they're fucked.

He might have thrown up again, he wasn't sure, as all of his brainpower was dedicated to dispelling the nausea and vertigo. He found himself strong enough to open his eyes, somehow, to the sight of a Robo-brain, moving along the lockers toward him, a shotgun in its metallic appendages.

He tensed up and tried to stand but a hand on his shoulder kept him down.

"Calm down," he heard Matthew say. He turned his head and saw a splotch of colour that he assumed was Matthew kneeling beside him. "The machine won't attack you. Stay down, you detonated a pulse grenade while inside it's range, it kicked you right in your neurons."

"Scanning for hostiles," the Robot informed him in that nice female voice as it rolled by the two vault dwellers as if they were invisible to it.

"Relax," Matthew commanded. "Don't move. Don't take off the lab coat. I'll be right back."

Steven felt around his upper torso and found some cloth draped on his shoulders. He held it with his right hand and concentrated on the blurry figure of Matthew retreating to their back-packs, cursing, and then returning to him.

"The fucking robot rolled over my back-pack!" Matthew spat. "The guns are ruined and our spare meds and water are gone. Can you stand?"

Steven wasn't sure but he nodded anyway. With Matthew's help he was able to stand up shakily, though he leaned against a wall immediately, unsure his knees wouldn't give way again. Matthew led him to a bathroom with a miraculously functioning sink and Steven was able to drink some and splash his face with it. He ten sat down against the wall and fixed his gaze on the sink, trying to will the weakness and nausea away by simply concentrating.

"What the hell happened?" He asked coarsely.

"The logo," Matthew patted on the West-Tek logo on his armour's chest-plate. "It's metal, probably a chip of sorts. Means you work here. Makes robots identify you as non-hostile."

Steven looked at the lab-coat draped on his shoulders and found the same sort of logo in the coat's chest.

"The Eye-Bots floated past you," Steven said, smiling. He suddenly felt really happy.

"Yes," the physician nodded, his voice, as Steven could now tell with the haze lifting, cold and angry. "The Robo-brain with the plasma rifle wanted to shoot you but when you jumped out of its sight it said 'target lost' instead of shooting me."

"Quick thinking," Steven said, genuinely amazed and thankful, if a bit taken aback by the anger. "Thank you."

Matthew just nodded and stood up.

"You get yourself together. I'll get our bags. Something's wrong, we're going back up."

The blonde vault dweller never heard his companion speak so authoritatively, though he wouldn't have argued even if his tone left any place for that. His vision stopped doubling and the blurring was slowly subsiding. He tried standing up. It was shaky but better than the first time.

Matthew returned and gave him his own empty, crushed backpack. He finished putting on the rest of his armour and offered Steven to put on his, but the security officer declined, reasoning they'd better head topside as soon as possible. The two were halfway back to the elevator when, with another shake of the whole construction, the lights went out.

"Shit," Matthew cursed.

Steven turned on his flash-light and helped him find his, immediately after which the vault dweller dashed for the elevator door. When Steven caught up with him he was frantically punching the call button and putting the key-card in and out.

"We won't be able to bust the door," Steven stated, though he didn't feel as hopeless as his words made the situation look... yet.

"Maybe there's explosives in one of the lockers, we can blow the door and head back up through the shaft!"

Steven didn't have time to reply before lights went back on again.

"The hell's going on?" Matthew asked no one in particular.

The two men entered the elevator and headed back to level six. No sooner had the door opened than the power went out again. Matthew raced forward and Steven caught up to him a few seconds later, his strength returning slowly but surely. Sophia was nowhere in sight.

"A few drops of blood on the console," the physician reported coldly. "Fuck."

Steven followed his companion back to the red elevator without a question and within a minute the brunette was sat before the console of Z.A.X., frantically typing in words and reading the lengthy blocks of text the computer offered.

"Someone came down here after us," Matthew informed him as he read the machine's responses. "Z.A.X. doesn't know who and he only picked up on it once we turned on the primary power."

Steven cursed.

"He was the one who suggested the intervals of us turning power off and on again and when the power went back on before it was due he figured these newcomers were trouble. He says these people turned off the power after the robots attacked, and ZAX turned on the power again so we'd get out."

"It helped us," Steven smiled, genuinely surprised. "Give it my thanks."

"He was lonely," Matthew explained pragmatically. "Sophia was the first person he'd interacted with in years. He's an AI, he's capable of liking people. He likes Sophia and wants to help her."

Matthew punched in the last lines of text and stood up.

"So these people took Sophia topside?" Steven asked.

"Yes. We need to get her. Can you run?"

"I think I'll manage."


	25. March, Part Two

As the mercenaries, now ten instead of twelve, made their way stealthily through the old settlement circumventing the sentry posts Tycho felt really bad about his plan. The best he could think of was to sneak inside the main building, start firing and watch the doors, hoping to bottle-neck the foes. He felt that the plan they went into the old factory with was sounder than this, and it didn't go well. Besides, he was with more capable men back then, some of the best of Crimson Caravans. And now Hailey and Ian were dead, Tabitha, as hard to get along with as she was, was back in the Hub doing nothing, and even Charlie decided to stay put for the moment. He might not have looked like much but Tycho remembered he was one of the only two survivors of that other mutant hunting team, and the other one had to have his leg amputated by Matthew. The mercenaries he was doing this with now were all either inexperienced or, as he pretended he didn't see, high on buffout and psycho, now anxiously waiting to make all hell break loose.

It's the Hub, the ranger thought, one of the most problem-ridden settlements he'd ever come across. Provided, he'd seen worse, but in smaller settlements, and in the Hub he'd meet people with something very wrong about their morals almost every day.

He shook his head. Maybe it's better not to get involved. Maybe it was time for him to retire.

He shook his head again. None of that now, he was on a serious mission.

What was left of the pre-war structures didn't exactly offer much cover and they moved from one collapsed building to another in pairs while the rest kept watch. Or rather, Tycho and maybe two others kept watch; he knew better than to trust something like this to people on drugs. Hopefully, it'll at least be handy once the bullets start flying. It's their life they're fucking up, not his.

He shook his head to dissipate another thought before it materialized.

They reached the old dormitory building without incident, at least as far as Tycho could tell, and everyone tensed up once inside. All was quiet except for the occasional shuffling of a pair of massive legs in one of the echoing corridors. The mercenaries were all but ready to start firing but Tycho instead led them to the stairwell and down: according to the Hub's Sheriff if anyone in the town survived they would be hiding in the basement underneath this very building. They found the trapdoor under some discarded rags and plywood just like the Sheriff described it and knocked five times. The latch was opened quietly and the trapdoor opened slowly. The mercenaries went in as silently as they could.

It was pretty dark inside, the cellar illuminated only by a single dim oil lantern hanging by the ceiling, casting shadows upon the faces of the dirty, frightened survivors that made them seem older and more ragged than any man had a right to be. There were about two dozen of them and all of them cast their eyes upon the mercenaries, hopeful, hungry for salvation. That was deeply unsettling. Every time Tycho had ever found himself in such a situation, coming to rescue folks, they would be ecstatic, all too eager to get out. But these people just gave him and his comrades hopeful looks, and some even shuffled deeper into their corners as if afraid to take a step outside, towards the salvation. The ranger realized that these people must have gone through hell to make them react to their saving so stiffly.

"Man are we happy you guys came," the man who'd let them in, a middle-aged farmer with a handlebar moustache, offered a weary smile. "I'm Henry, by the way. We've been holed up in here for two weeks now and most of our food and water is gone, even after we started rationing it. You've come to get us out of here?"

The ranger nodded," we are. Anything you can tell us about the mutants?"

"Reckon you'd know more about them than we would, seeing as how you fought them," Henry smiled. "But as for the bunch that... destroyed our town... We haven't been able to keep an eye on them and we only know what little we've seen and heard through the cracks of the window panes. Their leader is some sort of a special mutant called 'Night-Kin'. I heard the mutants talk about these night-kin with... I don't know, respect? It was as if they feared them."

"These night kin," Tycho asked, "are the blue-skinned mutants, right?"

"Yeah," the man confirmed sullenly. "We didn't know for sure until we've seen one of them through the window... This huge blue monster, it would leave the dorm every day and start smashing down the buildings with its bare hands!"

"Why?"

"It was the robot!" A ragged woman suddenly jumped up from the floor, her eyes and voice feverish. "There was a robot with her, every day! A small floating one, like a metal ball! It would talk something about 'destroying the old and making way for the new'! It would tell the mutant to smash our homes because 'it was needed for humanity to move forward', to 'let go and evolve'!"

The ranger's guts turned. That fit disturbingly well with what the Children of the Apocalypse were talking about.

"'Her'? How do you know it was a she?"

"The robot! It would refer to has as 'mistress'!"

"Is this mutant the leader?" Tycho asked Henry.

"No. Judging from the conversations we overheard, it... _she_ isn't. It's some other mutant, they'd call him their 'Corpse'."

Corpse? What was that all about?

"Anything else?" The ranger asked, deciding not to dwell on the finer points of mutant behaviour. "Something that could help us?"

The room went silent.

"Okay. Get ready to leave. We pull you out of here and attack the mutants once we know you're safe."

The people stood up heavily and quietly, reminding the ranger just how bad their situation was. And just how difficult a battle he was up to. He had a hunch these people didn't really know that the blue mutants, the 'Night Kin', could turn semi-invisible, and for a moment he deliberated informing them before deciding he did not want to make them any more panicked.

"Ranger, Sir?" Kyle tapped him on the shoulder. "May we talk?"

The two men returned to the first floor while the townspeople gathered their belongings.

"Is this the right way to go?" The mercenary asked, his voice quiet but emotional. "If we try to sneak all these people past the sentries and sneak back in again... There's a good chance we'll fail and..." He couldn't say the words. A shame, the ranger thought.

"You would suggest we tell them to stay low while we fight?"

The merc nodded.

"So if we should fail," the ranger said evenly, making the mercenary tense up at the mention of the likely possibility, "these people would have to stay down there for God knows how much longer while they barely have any food or water left."

"We _will_ fail and all die if we are found!" Kyle argued, his voice almost breaking. "And there's a good chance we will!"

Tycho looked the man in the eye. He didn't look away, defiant. Pride, the ranger thought. Pride is what's keeping him from averting his gaze. Sad, when you think about it.

"I'm sorry. We're taking these people to safety first," the ranger's voice left to space for argument. "There's more of those mutants out there. We can't risk two dozen peoples' lives in order to kill a dozen of them."

Kyle looked away, angry. He'll flee, Tycho thought. He'll flee as soon as things go bad, just like Carl and Tessa. He's been around long enough to know this for sure but still didn't know how to deal with it. Others, he knew, would have tried to bribe him or intimidate him, but those others were ruthless bosses of mercenary bands or chiefs of settlement guardians who were no more than ruffians and extortionists. The ranger had nothing to bribe the man with and did not believe he could intimidate him, he'd never tried to intimidate anyone, that wasn't him. But goodwill and understanding _should_ do the trick. If he could make Kyle see things the way he did, surely he would come around...

Doubt wash over him as he opened his mouth.

"This is the right thing to do. Life takes priority over death," he hesitated. "If we're found out, we run," Kyle suddenly looked him right in the eye. "The journey back to the Hub is perilous and the people will need protection. Besides, if we can't surprise them we likely can't win and, as I said, life over death."

The mercenary held gaze upon Tycho, as if looking for something, a hint of lying, most likely. He then looked down and up again, sighing in resignation.

"Okay. You're the boss. But we_ run_ if things go south."

"We run if things go south," Tycho confirmed.

Five mercenaries walked ahead and behind the column of survivors through the silent corridors, Tycho taking point beside Keith, the owner of one of the sharpest pairs of eyes among them. Some mercenaries were still twitchy from the drugs they'd taken and some were coming down by the fatigue in their eyes and the shaking of their drawn guns. Wonderful. Would it be better to just head back to the Hub even if we lead the people out unseen, the ranger wondered. With mercenaries in such states there was no way they could win a battle against the mutants. But then Tycho thought of Kyle. The man has his nose up in the clouds because he was, in name, a member of the mutant hunting team way back. If these mercs go back to the Hub without facing the mutants, just how cocky would they become? It might not sound like the best reason there ever was to lead people to a very dangerous fire-fight but that cockiness could do a _lot_ of damage.

Tycho's train of thoughts came to a screeching halt. Was he _really _considering making the mercs fight the mutants just so they wouldn't get cocky? He never thought like that in his entire life! Though it _did_ made sense, these mercenaries getting their head in the clouds _could_ seriously hurt the Hub...

I'll cross that bridge later, he decided, if we ever get out of here. And, looking at the stressed and drugged-up mercenaries Tycho found he could see why Kyle was so certain they'd all get killed. Damn it, he couldn't even tell if they could be relied upon to not run away at the first sight of a mutant. Sure, he assured Kyle they'd run if things went south, but the ranger estimated the young merc would draw the line at the distant shape of a mutant on the horizon.

Maybe they shouldn't attack. Maybe it's better to just get the people out of the town and return to the Hub, and not approach the mutants. He could talk to the Sheriff and Demetre, make them understand just what sort of mercenaries these men and women were, tell them they're so bad that Tycho couldn't even picture engaging the enemy with _them_ as his forces. That would teach these mercs a lesson, _and_ the other mercs in town. But wouldn't that harm the mercenaries, ruin their reputations? If a ranger spoke badly of them, would they be able to find work? Or could he make the Sheriff and Demetre just consider them carefully instead of writing them off? He wasn't sure. He looked at Keith. The man was was scanning the town before them from the doorway to the dormitory with his binoculars, his lips a thin line and his eyebrows tilted to a frown above the binoculars, concentrating. He was comparatively calm, concentrated, professional, and not high on anything. Should Tycho berate the other mercenaries in front of either of the two presently most important people in the Hub, decent mercenaries like him would suffer, even if he singled them out. He could lie, of course, but these mercenaries having a good reputation was a disaster waiting to happen, like Kyle leading bands of mercenaries.

Keith nodded and Tycho broke the train of thoughts, trying to concentrate. Damn, since when was it so hard to stay present? Was it age, or was the situation just getting to him?

Tycho and another merc, Joel, crossed the narrow street and made it past a dilapidated building into a small cover tugged between several piles of debris as quickly and quietly as they could. They were followed by two more mercs, then two of the townsfolk, and so on until all of them made it to the cover and Keith arrived to the safety last, having kept an eye on things as the people moved. Tycho sighed. One point reached, maybe over half a dozen more to go.

They moved to another cover and then again, now finding themselves near the edge of the town where the cornfields began. The ranger reckoned they would be able to move faster while in the cover of the tall crops, though they would have to be careful not to disturb the stalks to the point of getting spotted.

"Let's take a break," Tycho said quietly, reasoning they could use the rest, leading the people into a small cellar underneath the destroyed building they used for cover. It was cramped but it would serve, especially before the long run. The floorboards of the house's first floor were more or less smashed, the debris from the walls and ceiling punching their way through old wood on their way down, settling into heaps around the ceiling's walls, making it look more like a crater with some wooden boards above its centre.

The mercenaries were either restless or very tired, and the people of Irwin were both, in different measures.

"I'm hungry, mama," he heard a child complain.

"Hush, sweetie," came a tired voice in reply, "be a good boy and listen to the ranger and we'll be safe soon. We'll eat then, I promise."

Children. The ranger couldn't stand to see them suffering.

A desert ranger, though, was always prepared, and Tycho unslung his backpack and produced a strip of dried jerky.

"Here," he offered the meat to the kid, who immediately jumped on it without so much as a thank-you. The kid's mother, a tired-looking woman, smiled faintly and nodded in thanks. Tycho smiled back. It usually felt better, helping people like this. Was the life around the Hub really this depressing and thankless or was the problem within him, that he was troubled and weary?

"Mister," he felt a child tugging at his trench-coat, "I'm hungry too."

Tycho smiled and gave him a strip of jerky, upon seeing which a burly and mean-looking farmer exclaimed, "my child is hungry as well!"

"Ranger, my child is _famished_!" He heard a woman say, echoed by several others, the sudden ruckus underlined with constant whispers of 'food? Who has food?'

Tycho's face dropped and as he distributed the rest of the jerky he had unable to smile. He noticed Keith tense up at the sudden clamour, recognising the danger it posed. The ranger tried to hush the voices.

"Ranger! Ranger! What about _my_ child?" A woman demanded loudly.

"Hush," the Tycho tried to silence her. The woman tensed up, looked around and continued quietly, "my child hasn't eaten in _days_!"

"I'm sorry, I don't have any more," he apologised, "but we have some supplies in a gas station outside of town..."

"Ranger, Sir," Kyle tugged at his shoulder, "if we start sharing our food we won't be able to resturn to the Hub. There's too many of them."

Anger washed through the ranger. They would make do! They can ration and they can hunt, some people wandered the wasteland their entire lives in packs as large as Irwin and managed to live off the land! Tycho was about to reply when the woman he just spoke to addressed another townsfolk rather loudly, "my kid is hungry, share your food with him!"

The ranger turned his head and saw the man she was talking to bite down half a strip of jerky, the other half being eaten by his child. Anger and sadness washed over him, quickly replaced by tension.

"Simmer down!"

"We're hungry, we need food!"

"Quiet! Listen! If you keep shouting like that..."

"Why did he get a strip and my child didn't? He's eating it himself!"

"Shut up, bitch, I've been giving _all _of my meals to my kids for _three days_!"

"Like hell you were!"

"Shut up and listen to the Ranger!" Kyle exclaimed, trying to shock people to silence. It didn't work.

"This isn't fair! Why did _her_ child get to eat and mine didn't?"

"The ranger can't be the only one with food, hand it over!"

"Yeah! Hand it over! We can't walk without it!"

"What sort of saviours are you?"

"We've suffered so much, please, a bite of food!"

Tycho's mouth was agape. Never in his life had he encountered a situation like this, people forgetting about their safety in order to hassle some food from others. He wanted to believe it was because they cared deeply about their children, but with so many parents _sharing_ food with the children, the way these people _demanded_ to be fed like it was their right... Maybe he was getting old and cynical but for some reason he couldn't believe it was all good intentions.

He felt a light tap on his shoulder. It was Keith.

"I think we should hide."

Tycho was shocked all over again by the calm, quiet, suggestion. The mercenary looked at him and moved away, crouching and climbing up a pile of debris lying on the cellar wall. The ranger started after him but just as he reached the centre of the cellar Henry, the leader of the survivors, grabbed him the collar.

"I don't want to die!" The man hissed angrily. "You're a ranger, _do your fucking job_."

Tycho pushed the man away, his head ringing, not realizing what he was doing.

And then, a woman screaming and a hiss, like a gas leak.

He ducked and turned his head by instinct and saw it. A super mutant, blue skin, dark leather clothes, a flame-thrower in his hands, squirting fuel. The next moment, he saw Kyle bursting into a run away from the mutant, pushing over several women on his way, not even looking back as the shocked women fell flat on their backs. The next moment a tide of panicking people washed over him, pushing him on his back and tripping over, then falling on top of him. The world suddenly turned yellow behind them and screams too horrible to describe pierced through the ringing in his head. A woman was lying on top of him, two more on her. The air was permeated with the stench of fuel, burning cloth and charred flesh. The woman was screaming, trying to writhe out from underneath two other unfortunates while her burning clothes slowly cooked her skin. He could feel her screams, the way her lungs vibrated as she was pressed against the ranger's flesh, her eyes shot up in pain so high only her whites could be seen. Tycho could feel it too, the fire licking his trench-coat, his left temple, the heat of the clothes of the people on top of him, burning. His screams joined the chorus and soon the yellow disappeared, soon to be replaced by black as the man passed out.

* * *

><p>Junktown<p>

2161-04-01 03:37 PM

He could've sworn Tabitha smiled a bit when she offered him the third Rad-X pill.

"You sure you'll be fine?" She asked in an amused, teasing tone as Charlie swallowed the pill and sighed, expecting the nausea to wash over him any moment now.

"I recover quickly from these things," he assured her, "probably all the whiskey I've been drinking made me more resistant to stuff."

"Macho bullshit," Tabitha rolled her eyes and sat down on the other bed in the room.

"So if I get caught?" Charlie asked.

"I start shooting," Tabitha called back, not exactly reassuring. "Otherwise, if you fail to take the journal while I have them distracted, we'll do this your way. It'll take ages but it's better than nothing. Though that also means you don't need to bust your ass off."

Tabitha had dressed him up as a Junktown citizen who suddenly decided to be a wasteland mercenary: in stinking, itching old rags and a set of torn leather armour. He attached a small pouch of bottle caps so he wouldn't be turned away, and he'd hid a switchknife in his boot just in case.

"Anyway," Tabitha grinned evilly, "you have to admit my plan is better than yours."

"Yeah, and way more risky."

"That's part of the job. Besides, you're just a lazy drunk."

"Bite me," he smiled. "I do _quality _work, not fast and shoddy."

Tabitha looked at him as if she was thinking whether to ask him what she had on her mind, though she decided not to. Charlie sighed. He couldn't stand intrigue, tension, and things not being a hundred percent clear between people.

"Just ask."

"What?"

"You wanted to ask me something. Just do it."

"Promise not to take offence?" She smiled mischievously. She could be a real bitch when she was in a good mood, though he knew most would disagree: it was Tabitha in a bad mood that people feared. Yet Charlie preferred dealing with angry Tabitha. At least when she was in a bad mood she didn't play with people and was straightforward with them.

"Go on."

"I just wanted to ask how someone as... uh, cautious as you made it back from that Super-mutant hunt."

Charlie looked at her with irritation though the wave of nausea that washed over him made him turn away.

"I'm cautious. Not '_cautious_' like you said when you meant cowardly," Tabitha looked at him as if she was insulted by the unfair assumption. "Just taking things slow and steady."

"I see you're _extra_ cautious about not getting something nasty from some two-bit town whore."

"I just live it up while I can."

"'cause you could die at any moment?"

"We could _all_ die at any moment."

She narrowed her eyes, "then why don't you make sure you _survive_ instead of fucking around?"

He threw up.

In a couple of minutes Tabitha had dragged him as close to the Children building as she could and set him on his way. He went towards the building, taking one step after another, trying to save his vomit for the Children. He wasn't a big fan of marching into enemy territory on covert missions he was no good at, though Rad-X poisoning sort of drowned out those worries.

"Greetings, friend," one of the Children by the door greeted him, looking him up and down with concern. "You need assistance from us?"

Feeling a bit cocky, which made him think it was a good idea at the moment, he puked all over the man's shoes.

"Fuck!" The young and seemingly timid man's eyes went wide. "You should go inside! Doctor Reynolds!"

The young man led Charlie into the Children office and laid him down on the bed in the back room. He absent-mindedly noticed that someone freed him from the burned of his cap bag in the process. A doctor ran up to his prone figure and started asking questions which Charlie ignored, offering nothing more than a ragged croak, "Rad-X... too much... Rad-X"

He was surprised how easy it was to sound so sick and, at the back of his head, realised he'd really fucked himself up with those drugs.

The Children offered him some pills and a lot of water and he took those despite his distrust of those people, and the next hour was spent drinking water and vomiting violently. Before he passed out on the bed.

He came to a few hours later courtesy of Tabitha screaming her lungs off in the other room.

"Those mutants took my Bobby, you tell them to bring him back you cock-sucking rad-fucker!"

He smiled involuntarily but had to control his smile. It was already night time and sleepy Children started coming from the cellar to check out the ruckus. The woman was making quite a scene and that drawing so many children from the cellar was unexpected. He had to admit, he feared Tabitha wouldn't be able to play her role properly since she was in one of her 'good' moods, but he had to remind himself that she was a tough-as-nails professional and there were few things she couldn't do.

She started sobbing, he'd heard, and her screams became sharper though further in-between. He wiggled his fingers and toes and decided he would somehow manage movement. Sliding off the bed and crouching on the floor made his guts turn but the worst of the poisoning had already passed and he was able to shakily sneak up to the trapdoor in the corner, open it and take a look inside.

The cellar was divided into three parts by chest-high paper screens: a large sleeping area on the right and two small rooms on the left, an office and a storage area. Two of the Children were still sleeping on the right and Charlie drew his switchblade before heading down.

"Who's there?" He heard a sleepy voice as his feet touched the ground. He ducked and came as close to the door to the residential as he dared. The man who called out was approaching the doorway to check out the noise. Charlie brought his knife to eye level. He steadied his breath and concentrated, then, as the man came into his view he sprung to an attack.

The funny thing was, while most people considered him to be a friendly and compassionate person, whenever he was in combat he would see his enemies as nothing but targets, sort of like dummies, things to be shot down as quickly as possible. He hated close-quarter combat since if it dragged out he would have to observe his enemy and take into account their tells of intention and emotional state, which just made him feel shitty. With that in mind, he simply drove his knife between the man's ribs and into his heart, then cast the body aside, stepped into the room, saw another man standing up from the bed, ran up to him, slit his throat, threw him on the bed and pressed his palm against the man's mouth so he wouldn't scream. He swore as he got blood all over him.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins Charlie strode quickly into the office and started rummaging through drawers. It took him a minute to find what he was looking for – a small pre-war notebook that belonged to a 'Doc Reynolds', a higher-up as he was led to believe earlier – and as he hid it inside the leather armour he heard another one of the Children descend the ladder.

Another rush of adrenaline made his hand tremble. He was deep inside enemy territory, with only stealth as his weapon, and he had no skill at it. He ran up to the descending man, put his hand to his mouth and pulled him from the ladder at the same time as stabbing him in the stomach. He got even more blood on him and cursed again.

It was time to go. He was going through possibilities of getting away from this frantically when he caught himself panicking. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He ran through the situation again and came up with a possible solution quickly.

Without flinching he knelt by the last killed cultist and took a mouthful of his blood from the wounds. It tasted foul but he didn't find it particularly disgusting, probably thanks to his wishing to get out of here as soon as possible. He hid his knife and ascended the ladder, then scanned the room. There were no children in the room where he was put to bed, and all the remaining ones were in the first room, standing around Tabitha, who was weeping on the floor. Charlie cursed in his mind at the fact that there were no windows in the building and went ahead with the plan.

Eyes bulging and a shuffle in his step, Charlie stepped out into the room, making all heads turn at him and all eyes go wide at the sight of blood on his leather armour. He stopped, looked at them, and let a portion of the blood in his mouth run down to his chin, armour, and then the floor. A second later he started walking fast and clumsily towards the door, pretending to be a man in panic and spitting out the last of the blood from his mouth. Tabitha was staring at him like the others but a second later she jumped up from her feet, started screaming, exclaimed something about having known that the Children were monsters, and ran away a second before Charlie shuffled outside, hastening his pace.

"Hey, stop!" The young man who met him at the door earlier ran after Charlie who was making for the nearest alley "Hey, are you okay? What's wrong? We can help you!"

Charlie dove into the alley with the man just a step behind him. He stopped and leaned forward as if to puke, his hand creeping to the knife in his boot.

"It's okay, don't-"

The man was suddenly cut short by Tabitha, who appeared out of nowhere behind him and grabbed him in a choke-hold. Charlie grabbed his knife and plunged it into the man's eye socket, killing him.

"What the fuck?!" Tabitha demanded angrily.

"Had to kill a few of them," Charlie replied. "Sorry."

"Next time we do something like this, warn me of your lack of skill _before _we go in alright?" She jabbed and walked away to their hotel hastily. Charlie smiled and followed her. _Of course_ he'd warned her but she decided not to listen for some reason.

They collected their stuff quickly and changed their clothes, making it to the main gate within twenty minutes. The woman crept up on the guard, watching the wasteland instead of the town, knocked him out with the butt of her .44, and the two of them took off.

They spent the night in the wasteland, further away from the trade route to the Hub. Charlie passed out almost as soon as he lied down in his sleeping bag but he still managed a smile and a thumbs up before that.

"Go teamwork!" He called.

"Go Tabitha salvaging Charlie's horrible 'plans'!" She laughed.

"Go snark!" Charlie rolled his eyes and passed out.

* * *

><p>The Glow<p>

2161-03-31 07:11 PM

Steven barely managed to keep up with Matthew as he raced through the hallways of the abandoned facility. When they were not moving, inside the elevator, the blonde decided against trying to stop him. Let's wait and see, he thought.

The rope they'd set up has been cut down. Matthew looked at it for a second before attempting to claw his way up, causing an avalanche of sand. Steven in the meantime dragged one of the surprisingly light metal desks to the sand pile.

"Matt!" He called out. The other vault dweller looked at him and understood what he was trying to do. The two men carried the table up the sand pile and settled it unsteadily by the wall. Steven took point, being more physically fit than the physician. He jumped from the table and grabbed a piece of rebar coming from the base's outer shelter. He swung himself sideways and wrapped his feet around another piece of rebar on the other side of the hole. He then lithely jumped from that piece of rebar to the one he held on to with his hands, stood up, and put one leg back on the other foothold. Alas, there were three more meters of sand above him.

"I need something as close to a shovel as you can find!" Steven asked and five minutes later he was punching the sand with a metal broomstick Matthew had found. Sand rained down upon the pile below and Steven didn't let up until he'd made something resembling a grotto right above the facility's outer shell. He then moved on the concrete and started pounding the sand above, then the sand at his chest level again. He soon discarded the broomstick and started digging with his hands, trying to dig a walkway upwards in the sand, immediately after pulling Matthew up to help him. He thanked god for climate change and lack of water in the region that made all the digging possible as half an hour later two very sweaty vault dwellers had dug a diagonal walkway up to the ground level. They barely stopped to catch their breath one back on the surface.

"These are our footsteps?" Matthew asked, pointing at a set coming from the north.

"Probably," he replied, his vision going a bit hazy. Another set of footsteps led east and then south up a narrow mountain trail. Matthew ran as fast as he could and his companion, despite being more physically fit, lagged behind due to fatigue.

A landslide must've occurred here some time ago as the mountain terrace they were walking along suddenly got no wider than half a meter ahead and Sophia's captors were resting on the other side, fifty meters away. Sophia was on her knees in the middle of the circle, her entire torso wrapped up in a rope.

Ghouls. There were three of them, all dressed up in rags, carrying some sort of rifles. They were talking about something but Steven couldn't make it out.

The vault dweller almost jumped up into the air when a gun rang out right beside him. Steven scolded himself for not noticing Matthew getting down on his stomach, taking aim and firing at a ghoul.

Sophia reacted first and no sooner had the pieces of the ghoul's skull hit the ground than the woman had stood up and jumped behind a rock further away from the gorge. The ghouls took cover from Matthew's fire as well and one of them fired a load of shotgun pellets at the rock where Sophia had been a second before.

Steven ducked and shook his head. Concentrate, he thought. The ghouls were behind cover on the other side, and Sophia was behind another one further away. The abductors couldn't come over to where Sophia had run to without exposing themselves to Matthew, but the two men could not get over to their side and flank them either. Steven drew his assault rifle just in case but he'd already figured how this was going to play out.

"They'll wait us out," he stated solemnly.

"We'll see about that," Matthew replied with determination.

"Since you lost your doctor's bag the only radiation drugs we have are with Sophia. They can wait until we die, even if it's the three of us."

His companion didn't reply. Steven didn't know what else to say. He sighed, forcing himself to think. For one of them to try and make it across was folly: the ghouls were poised behind rocks only several meters away from where the ledge turned into a proper terrace again. Either of them taking the narrow ledge to the other side would make them easy prey while walking across and then again once on the other side, due to the ghouls being behind cover.

He wanted to go across, he really did. Probably even more than Matthew, who was visibly seething with anger, waiting anxiously for one of the ghouls to make a mistake and give him a clear shot. Even if it meant his death he could at least draw the assailants from their cover so his companion could kill them. It wasn't even for Sophia's sake, he realized, he just wanted to go across and give the ghouls what-for, go out in a blaze of glory if necessary. After all, Sophia could do far more good to the world than he could...

No you won't!, he scolded himself in his head, the rational part of him taking over. That sort of thinking is not constructive! He closed his eyes for a few seconds, calming down as the _wish_, for he realized that was what it was, to go across subsided.

We should let it go, Steven thought, his head now clear. There was no other way. They probably won't succeed in killing the ghouls, and once they're dead, they'll take Sophia away and do whatever it was they intended to do with her. Probably eat her. It was simple arithmetic really, risking three with terrible odds or giving up one. He didn't like it but he felt he could probably live with it. Well, he could function with it anyway.

He sat down, his back leaning against the cliff and his rifle on his knees, pointed at the rock on the other side. He was looking at Matthew and Matthew was looking at the rocks through his scope, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. There was no way of talking him out of this.

He sighed, a myriad of reasons to back off running through his head, but none of them spoken, not only because Matthew would not have any of it, but also because he suddenly found himself not wanting to admit it.

Damn it, he thought, I've been through worse, this decision is easy in comparison. But why was he stalling? His suicidal wish to just run across and shoot until either they or him were dead was in check, so what was holding him back?

"What's your plan?" He asked quietly, not really sure what he was getting at or exactly what he would suggest.

Matthew didn't respond.

"You do realize we need to do this quick or else we'll die of radiation poisoning?"

No response.

"There's no use in all of us dying here. The two of us can at least make it out of here," he tried prodding.

"She might need time to wiggle out of the ropes."

"And then?"

"She might try to run for it."

"She can't get out from behind that rock without getting shot."

"She can shoot them from there."

"They won't have left any guns on her."

"Then what do you propose that we do?" Matthew snapped his head at him, furious.

"You know what," Steven replied calmly.

"Fuck you," the brunette replied hatefully, his eye returning to the scope.

Steven paused.

"And what would happen if we left?"

"They'll kill her."

"But not us."

"We're the only shot she has."

"She won't care if she's dead."

Matthew fell silent. Steven wasn't good at reading people but even he knew that what he was about to say was pushing it.

"If she dies, she won't feel a thing. You will. You'll feel like a failure."

Matthew didn't respond for a second until spitting through his teeth, "this isn't about me."

"For every person it's only about them. Don't deny it."

Matthew shifted uncomfortably.

"I couldn't live with that."

"But you would _live_."

"I'd rather not."

Suddenly, Steven was sure whether he wanted to save Sophia or flee.

"Stop being a drama queen!" He snapped. "Both of you, you go around acting like you're some sort of victims of a cosmic rape when barely anything has happened to _you_! Your _comrades_ died, not you! _Decker_ died, not you."

Matthew flinched at that. The angry blonde continued.

"You think you can't live with it? You _can_, trust me! There's much more horrible shit out there than your little 'tragedies', and if you weren't totally clueless you would know just how pathetic your little dilemma is!"

Saying that made Steven feel reassured of his choice but Matthew would have none of it.

"And I have only your word on _that_," he spat. "Maybe I haven't seen the worst of this world but that doesn't mean I should just abandon friends because there could be worse situations than this!"

"I know you want to be a hero and do the right thing. And I know how mad you are seeing as how all you did ever since the Hub is act like our father, but like I said: you walk away something bad will happen to _her_. Not you, but _her_!"

"Fuck it. If there are worse things out there than this then I'd rather die right here and now than see them so I could become an asshole who leaves his friends behind," Matthew accused as he stood up and approached the narrow walkway. Steven got up on his feet and grabbed Matt by the shoulder.

"I'll do it," he said.

Matthew turned around slowly and looked at him with disbelief.

"Say what now?"

"You're gonna do it either way so let me. I've got an assault rifle, way better than a sniper rifle in that situation. And I'm better at this."

"You just told be to leave her behind," Matthew looked at him with suspicion. "What the _hell_ are you playing at?"

Steven opened his mouth but couldn't find any words to express his thoughts. He knew exactly why he wanted to go himself instead of letting Matthew go, but he just couldn't say it. Maybe his rational side didn't _let _him say it. Because that side of him was afraid of saying it out loud.

"You haven't seen half the things I've seen," Steven said quietly, squeezing words out of him slowly. "It means you actually want to live more than I do."

He cursed in his head. Admitting that made him feel weak. He was affected deeply by the things he was forced to go through in the surface world, to the point of having less of a will to keep living, but as long he at least didn't say it his rational side could somehow keep it in check. But now, having said that...

"What kind of things?" Matthew asked, suddenly much calmer and even slightly concerned.

"Doesn't matter."

"What kind of things, Steven?" Matthew insisted.

A part of him wanted to say it. Probably because he'd never told anyone and he wanted to get it off his chest. Probably because hiding that, as well as never revealing his state of mind, formed a gap between him and his companions, always made him the outsider, the stranger. But at the same time, his rational side was screaming at him to keep his mouth shut, to keep his shit together and not go sobbing because the world wasn't a fair place.

"There was a ranger," Matthew started slowly. "Tycho. He would say the wrong choice was the easy one. That instead of doing things the easy way I should try and do it the hard way. The right way. You said nothing bad ever happened to me and Sophia. That's not true. We were doing things the hard way since the beginning, not running away so we'd at least live no matter the cost. Like you," he spat as he pushed his companion aside and walked up to the narrow ledge.

Steven's stomach sank. He knew he never was on the same wavelength with the other people but this was just ridiculous! It was as if they were talking about different things altogether. He looked up at the man slinging his sniper rifle on his back preparing to cross the gap to the rocks. He's never seen it, he thought, that's why he doesn't understand. But then again it wasn't like Steven could think of a single valid argument against what Matthew had said.

It struck him then that ever since leaving the vault he'd seen different things than his two comrades. Due to all that experience his way of thinking was now different from theirs. And without them having that same experience they'd never understand him while he, with that experience, couldn't see them as anything more than fools who don't get things.

People are all different, he thought. And it's impossible for them to fully understand each other. It's not like telling them about what he'd seen out there would make them understand. It's not like that distance between him and his companions could be bridged by talking. They would never understand him and that was it. At least, until they'd suffered as much as him.

"Will you cover me?" Matthew asked, his voice and gaze betraying that he didn't really expect him too.

Steven looked him in the eye and nodded non-committally, crouching down and aiming at the other side of the gap.

Matthew nodded and approached the narrow pathway. He drew his 10mm pistol, pressed his stomach against the sheer cliff and started inching towards the other side slowly.

Steven's gaze was drifting between the physician and the covers of the foes. He had basically rammed his cheek into the stock of his assault rifle, forcing himself to concentrate instead of letting his mind drift with the thoughts inside his head.

He re-evaluated the entire set-up of this confrontation. Maybe Matthew would be able to make it to the other side without exposing himself to the ghouls. It was a small chance but he found himself clinging to it. Even though he would've preferred the two of them just walked away he also understood Matthew's point of view. If he died, it wouldn't be something that would happen to Steven, he wouldn't be the one dead, but damn would it be hard. Not the hardest thing but...

Or was it that Steven _really_ wanted to inflict the story of his journeys to his companions because he'd grown to care about them and the fact that they weren't as close as he wanted to?

He bit his lower lip, forcing himself to concentrate on the situation before him.

The brunette made it to the other side and Steven clutched his assault rifle tighter, aiming at the rock further away from his companion, reasoning that if something happened Matthew would shoot at the one closer to him first. He held his breath.

The ghoul further away from Matthew poked his head out from behind the rock and trained his weathered hunting rifle at the physician. A quick salve from Steven's assault rifle brought him down.

At the same moment, two sounds echoed left of the ghoul. One was the report of Matthew's pistol going off, the other was the crack of a shotgun. He didn't see what happened to the ghoul, but he did see Matthew stagger backwards a couple of paces from the impact to his chest, and then fall flat on his back.

Steven froze, his limbs going numb.

He knew this would happen.

That felt worse than he imagined.

Should he run?

It was hard to, somehow. Maybe these two and their life in what Steven considered to be a soap bubble of ignorance was rubbing off on him but despite knowing what the rational choice was he couldn't help but approach the edge of the gap and frantically follow the physician's path to the other side.


	26. March, Part Three

The world was an unintelligible blur as he trudged forward, one foot in front of the other, tired, hungry, thirsty. He drank the last of his water twelve hours ago. Just thinking about it pronounced the dryness of his mouth and throat and the dull ache of his burns. He didn't think about it often. With every step he took he thought about it less. He was strong like that. He remembered it now.

He'd come to at night, under a pile of bodies, dead or slowly dying. The mutants were, thankfully, not thorough with their massacre.

His ears were ringing and all he saw was mist. It was probably what made wiggling out from underneath all those bodies that much easier. He knew what it was weighing him down so much, though. He carried on regardless. He was weak now, too weak to have decent human feelings.

His body was on fire and his joints were sand. I'm not going to make it, he thought.

He crawled out of the cellar slowly, on all fours, trying his best to make sense of the world around him. He made it topside and had was crawling through a gap in the fallen wall when he almost walked into a mutant.

He froze.

He could barely use his sight or hearing at this moment, and that should have rendered him helpless, but at that moment something else kicked in, like a sixth sense. He suddenly became aware of the world in some other, alien way. There was little he could make out with his eyes and ears, but he made it enough. He categorized every muffled sound and blurry mess of colour in his head, placing them spatially inside his head. He might be impaired but he still had his mind, and inside it he could reconstruct the reality around him despite that. He was suddenly keenly aware, ready to act a moment's notice. Gears turned in his head, drawing up plans, evaluating them, calculating chances.

A mutant's voiced pierced through the ringing, something about how he enjoyed the moans of the dying. He categorized it coldly, the statement just confirming the mutant's position, not inspiring righteous anger in him like it should. He was too weak to care. He was weak in general. He wouldn't have lost all those people if he wasn't.

He crept around the circumference of the basement looking for a gap in the walls and mutant patrols he could slip through. He couldn't find the latter so he sat down, waiting for something to change, for a chance to make a run for it. There was no other option. And he was so tired. Weak. Always weak.

He sat for almost an hour before one of the mutants walked away from his post, mumbling. For all he knew, there was probably another one coming to take its place, but he couldn't see it. He closed his eyes, dashed, and prayed.

He dove into the corn-field and threw himself on the ground, straining his senses to make sure he was alright. But it was pointless, the world was still just loud mist. He pushed hiself off the ground, the gears in his mind picking up speed. No point in trying to obtain unobtainable knowledge. Act on what you know. He knew he had cover and he knew which direction to go. So just walked away. He could've looked for survivors but he was too weak. Always too weak.

I'll make it to the middle and I'll be safe for the moment, he thought. I'll lie down. Can't go on. He made it to the middle of the field and to the edge and out of the field without stopping, his feet just moving.

Can't go on, he thought. He sat down by a dried-up dead tree outside of Irwin. Can't go on, have to sleep. He closed his eyes.

He saw them, on the inside of his eyelids. The people of Irwin, all there in the cellar before the attack, shouting. And himself, mute, unable to do anything, not even _knowing _anything. Completely lost. Baffled.

He was weak. He was supposed to be a force of good, he was supposed to save them, but he couldn't, because he froze, he didn't know what to do, he was stupid. Weak. He fought for good but he lost.

He stood up and kept walking, towards the gas station they made their base of before heading in. He was weak, he deserved all the guilt his mind could dish out on him, but he'd rather occupy his mind with the sensation of all the pain walking caused. Because he was weak. He couldn't even admit his failings like a man.

Inside the gas station, he found all of the supplies gone, and the dead body of Keith, a bullet hole between his eyes.

He turned around and left, and started towards the Hub. He was on the verge of collapsing, no time to think about it. No time to even mourn, to bury the decent mercenary. All he could do was go on and try not to think about it. Because he was weak.

He passed out a couple of times on his way back to the settlement, and somehow managed to survive by eating the meat of the dry cactuses. He'd become feverish and passed out for a couple of days. He thought he would die of hunger and dehydration afterwards but, even to his own surprise, his body just kept going. Like a machine. It was a comparatively short walk after all.

The black sky was painted with hints of pink and violet in the east when the ranger approached the Hub's 'gate', several merchant wagons on each side of the road at the edge of the town. There were only three wagons here now, where there used to be a dozen, and two of them belonged to Crimson Caravans, the third – to the Water Merchants.

A man was standing there, counting bullets that were secured in a leather pack at the side of a wagon. He should've felt good: he made it, he was alive, that was a _person_ over there, civilized, even if it's a hubber. He was safe. But there was no distance left for him to walk. Now his guilt would catch up.

He approached the stranger slowly. The man turned around, looked at the ranger, and his eyes went wide as plates.

Kyle.

"R... Ranger!"

"Kyle," Tycho greeted coldly, "I see you made it."

A coward. Tycho might be a coward but this man in front of him... he fled before the fighting even began. He was the bigger coward.

"Yeah..." the man stuttered. "I thought no one else survived!" he smiled. Tycho didn't like it. "But you're alive! I'm so glad! We should get you to a doctor right away!"

Kyle extended his hand. The ranger didn't move a muscle.

"Checking the supplies for a caravan run?" Tycho motioned at the wagon. "Going on a run?"

Kyle's hand returned to his side.

"Yeah... You know, my old job?"

"Demetre was okay with what happened in Irwin? You're working already. As if you've done nothing wrong in Irwin," the younger man looked at his feet. "What does Demetre think happened?"

He offered no reply. He couldn't say it. Couldn't admit it. Tycho might have been running away from his guilt over what happened, but he admitted it to himself, and would admit it to the world. _That_ man couldn't even do that.

He remembered. Tycho remembered him running away from the cellar, knocking people down, destroying any chance _they_ had of escaping so he could flee himself. Keith fled, but he hurt no one during his escape. He was a coward. Tycho was a coward. But this man... this man was a murderer. Maybe even Keith-

"Did you tell Demetre how you tripped those women over, Kyle?" Tycho accused. "Did you tell him just how many people you killed so you could save your skin? Do you even know?"

His head snapped up and eyes went wide with surprise again. "I... I didn't!"

"You did. I saw it."

"Maybe it was someone else!" The man insisted, gesticulating nervously with his hands. "It was a crazy situation..."

"Don't tell me you even believe that bullshit excuse." The man froze and Ranger continued, "And Keith? Did 'someone else' shoot him as well?"

"He... He attacked me! I had no choice! He would've stolen everything!"

_Of course_ it was Kyle who killed Keith. He should've seen it sooner.

"So you killed him and did the right thing? Stopped _him_ from stealing. Didn't stop _yourself_ from stealing, though."

The man cast his eyes down, his lips pursed.

"Keith would never do that," Tycho stated, "He was brave and loyal. Unlike you. You're a murderer."

The two men fell quiet. A few seconds later the mercenary looked backat the ranger, angry, terrified.

Though the world remained blurry the haze suddenly lifted from where the man's face was. Tycho saw it. And he saw what came next before it came.

The man wasn't a good mercenary. A passable fighter with an assault rifle but way too slow, cowardly and indecisive for melee combat. No sooner had he unsheathed his combat knife that Tycho grabbed his hand by the wrist. In response, the mercenary slammed into him and threw him to the ground. Tycho's grip on his wrist was still strong despite the fatigue and he brought his opponent down on the ground with him. Kyle grabbed his knife in both hands and tried to push the blade down to the ranger's belly while the tired ranger was unable to stop the knife's descent completely.

Tycho looked at his opponent's face. Young, angry, afraid. A fraud, a thief and a murderer. An outlaw. Like so many Tycho had killed in his life. They always come back though, he thought. Even if I kill this one, there will be more.

The knife inched closer to his belly.

Why fight it? There would always be people like Kyle even if he killed him here. There was just no point, it's a losing battle, and Tycho was weak.

The tip of the knife scraped against his armour. Though it seemed impossible, an extra dose of adrenaline shot through his veins.

Did he walk all the way back from Irwin for this? To be another victim of this murderer? For god's sake, he _walked _all the way here. He is strong.

He is strong.

He suddenly remembered his father, the advice he once gave him. "The bad folk will always try to bring you down, son, and half of what it means to be a ranger is to stand your ground and never fall."

He is strong, always was. But the criminals, those who would cause others harm, those that Tycho dedicated his life to eradicating, they were strong too, they _had _to be, and they tried to bring him down. They _did_. They made him think he was weak, while he was strong – just not as strong as them. Doesn't mean he will give up, though.

The ranger's forehead suddenly impacted with the mercenary's nose. The pressure on the knife was gone. Tycho was strong. Tycho was a fighter. He rolled the hubber over, then freed himself from his grasp and stood up. Kyle tried to get back on his feet too, but a kick in the stomach foiled that plan. Kyle's knife was suddenly in Tycho's hands.

"I didn't mean to..." Kyle muttered, blood streaming down to his mouth, "I was scared, it was so scary, I didn't want to die! I don't want to die!"

Something moved inside Tycho. A distant memory, a faint voice. It was telling him the man was young and thrown right into hell. Compassion stirred inside him. Then he heard another voice. This one was screaming. He could feel the lungs of the voice's owner vibrating on his chest. Again he felt the weight of dead bodies pressing down on him as he tried to wiggle out from underneath them, again he smelled the burnt flesh. The entire trip back to the Hub flashed before his eyes, a bouquet of pain, weariness, and despair.

He was a ranger. He fought criminals. But it was so much more than that, he always saw himself as a force of good, and the criminals as a force of evil. Black against white, it's always been this way. And good was good, that was all there was to it. The reason why the world isn't good is because there are bad people as well. It's what's holding the world back, people like Kyle.

"No one wanted to die," came Tycho's cold reply. "No one wanted to die more or less than you."

He could take the merc to the Sheriff, make him confess his crimes. It was the right thing to do, the compassionate thing. The enemy was subdued. But what would that achieve? So many years, Tycho suddenly realized, so many years he'd wasted _talking _with such delinquents, sometimes unsuccessfully and sometimes with short-term success, with things returning to what they were by the next time he came into town. All this time he thought he was making a difference when in reality he was just fooling himself. He should've just disposed of them, permanently. The world was a sad, broken place, and it was up to people like him to bring hope, to make it better. He'd dedicated all his life to it but at that moment it seemed like all he's ever done was half-assed, a petty effort without a result. There's always the possibility to do the right thing, he remembered himself say countless times. And he'd always tried to do that. But sometimes that doesn't cut it. Men like Kyle, they will make you doubt yourself, they will use such an underhanded method in the eternal battle of good versus evil. And Tycho is _strong_. If he is serious about his fight, he has to _really_ fight, not just... chat.

At that moment, with Kyle moaning beneath his feet, lying through his teeth in order to justify himself, he realized that he's never done the right thing, he's always done the righteous thing, he always took the path that helped him sleep at night. If he wanted to make a difference, he would have to try harder. He would have to make a _real_ impact.

A kick to the chest sent Kyle sprawling on his back. He can take him to the Sheriff, save a life, and by next week... No. If he wants to bring justice to the world, he has to do it like he means it.

Kyle's screams didn't make him pause. He cut his throat and continued towards Downtown, calm and solemn.

* * *

><p>Peninsular Ranges<p>

2161-03-31 08:46 PM

"So there I was, taking a piss in the desert, and these three women jump out of the bushes, all naked, with their tits jingling, gecko-skin mini-skirts, tribal war-paint all over the body, and fucking _bones_ of all things used as piercings, in the ears, eyebrows, lips and noses, everywhere. I almost took a shit too, I shit you not!" Tabitha laughed and her two companions joined her, Ian honestly and Matthew because he was raised well. The three were huddled up around a fire as the moon rose, a mole-rat spit and cooking, smelling as foul as ever.

"It seems not even _you_ aren't below shitting yourself in fear, Betty Brave," Ian laughed and his lover gave him the middle finger.

"I wasn't scared, just startled for a moment. Anyway," she continued, "they were all armed with spears and poles and tribal shit like that, and I just had my sawed-off, two shells. So I stand up, piss dripping from my muff, and bang, bang! Two tribals ate a plate of lead salad!"

He still found her stories of people dying morbid in the least but he had to admit some of the expressions she used distracted him from the gruesomeness of her tales.

"And then you had no more shells..." Ian said, prompting her to continue.

"I'm not some two-cap caravan whore, I had shells on me! Thing was, there was no time to reload 'em! So this last chick comes at me, some sort of sharpened pole in her hands, charging at me... And the thing was, she wasn't holdin' it right, the pole wasn't between her right arm and right side, its shaft was hovering in front of her fucking solar plexus, if you can believe it. Dumb tribals. So anyway, I drop by sawed-off and fuckin' grab the sharp end of the pole with both hands and the bitch im-fucking-pales herself on it!" Ian laughed while Matthew winced, grossing out taking priority over upbringing. "And I don't even fuckin' move an inch!" She laughed. "And the thing was, from all that speed she built up, she impales herself, and her face comes inches from mine, so, without thinking, I fuckin' kiss her on the cheeck and she dies!" Tabitha and her lover burst into another bout of laughter while Matthew offered a modest smile "How badass is _that_?"

"Seeing as how you had your pants down," Ian replied with a mischievous smile, "it's kinda more kinky than badass..."

Tabitha shoved him playfully and turned to Matthew.

"Any, any badass stories, vault-boy?"

Matthew shrugged, "never really had a chance to impale anyone."

"Really?" Tabitha asked incredulously, "but dude, you were a medic!"

Another bout of laughter.

"Seriously though, tell us the badassest thing you've done," Ian asked. "Something cool and against the grain."

Matthew thought about it.

"Well, this once, the doc was out somewhere and I admitted this man, Creel, into the infirmary. He was a hypochondriac... constantly thinking he was sick with something... and asked about his scraped knee, saying it has swelled to twice its size. Of course, everything was alright with the knee but I was tired of the man and told him he had knee cancer." Tabitha started chuckling. "Told him he must have fallen on some rads."

"Fallen on some rads?" Ian asked grinning.

"Yeah, I told the guy that the nuclear reactor sometimes spits some rads into the air and they get on the technicians' clothes, and when they walk home from work some of these rads fall off their clothes and on the floor in the hallway. He almost lost his shit and, as I heard it, he went down to the reactor room and assaulted one of the engineers."

That last bit was a lie, but Matthew decided to at least try and make his story interesting. It worked, as both mercs went from giggling to laughing, though nowhere near as hard as when Tabitha told her story.

"You got in trouble for this?" Ian asked.

"Yeah, I did... Worth it, though."

"You got in trouble a lot?"

"No... not really," Matthew found himself shy to admit. "I was the smart and timid kid, everyone was surprised, really."

"Well, you're not in the vault any more," Tabitha offered, "you can get into all sorts of mischief without ruining your 'smart and timid' reputation."

He shrugged, "I don't know, if you're born a rooster then you die a rooster."

"Unless you catch some rads!" Ian noted and laughed. "And hey, you're on the surface now!"

"None of that shit, now!" Tabitha scolded him. "You're a wastelander now, you can be whatever the fuck you want to be!"

"I don't really think it's possible to change one's nature."

"I dunno," she shrugged, "but I do know that you either _do_ that or _die_. Get in character, start acting like a touch sonuvabitch, come on, tell me that story again but this time like a tough waster! Consider this your training, meat!"

Ian laughed, "you can draw inspiration from Betty here."

While Tabitha flipped him off Matthew took a breath and muttered, "shit cock motherfucker whore, faggot bitch and I shat myself."

They burst into laughter, honest, loud, hysterical laugh. Impossible. Something _he_ said made them laugh. That was impossible.

"_That _was_ good_!" Tabitha managed between bouts of laughter. She put her arm on his shoulders. "You'll be a regular wastelander in no time, I guarantee!"

Matthew kept staring at the fire. "Doubt it. Rooster and all."

"Ah, bullshit, you'll get there and we'll help you."

"Why?" He asked, looking at her and trying to understand why she'd take the time to do something like _that_.

"We're friends, aren't we?" She shrugged noncommittally. "You haven't tried to shoot me, you're not fucking my shit up and we get along... good enough, at least. And you've saved my ass, to boot. That's what friends do."

He frowned at her, not believing, and she frowned right back, rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair. "You big baby," she muttered.

He looked back at the fire. They _had _already helped him, he realized. She wasn't fooling him. They'd taught him, and they never treated him as a load. Hell, they even knew he was a vault dweller and they decided to help him instead of trying to raid his home. They were friends. They were his friends.

A shot rang out in the darkness and Matthew suddenly felt a pain in his chest, and something knocking him back on his back, his head rolling on the side, all his muscles limp.

"Damn," he heard Tabitha say, suddenly standing over him. "Shot in the chest."

"He's dead," Ian stated, his expression melancholy but not particularly heartbroken.

"Damn. Guess we'll have to move on without him," Tabitha sighed and picked up her bags. Before he knew it, they were both walking away to towards the horizon, in the direction his head happened to face.

Junktown suddenly materialized on the horizon, and he saw Tycho's face flashing before his eyes, then Gizmo's empty casino at night and Ian and Tabitha in lock up. The image shimmered and Junktown turned into the Hub, and he saw Rhonda's face now, and Hightower residence at night and Crimson Caravans flourishing. They'll move on to that, he realized. They'll move on and do all these things, and there will be hard times and easy times, but there will be no Matthew there with them. They just walked away.

"Matthew?" He heard someone say behind him. He tried to move but his bones were liquid.

"Matthew?" The voice came again, this time just over him. He grit his teeth and turned his head to look up, managing just barely.

There was no one there.

"Matt!" He suddenly jolted upright, the world suddenly spinning and going black.

His chest hurt and the world was painted in barely distinguishable shades of grey. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he breathed quickly and frantically.

Wind blew threw his naked torso and made him shiver. The world was slowly regaining light and colour.

The mountains, he was in the mountains, not in the wasteland plains. And it was evening, not night. And it was Sophia and Steven hovering over him, it wasn't Ian and Tabitha walking away.

He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate and distinguish dreams from reality.

He remembered, slowly. Sophia being taken away by ghouls, his argument with Steven, walking up to the foes trying to save her somehow...

"Fuck!" he looked down at his chest, and saw a big purple bruise. He was shot, wasn't he? With a shotgun. Why the hell is there a bruise and not a hole in his chest?

"You're awake!" Sophia exclaimed and her head lolled down, like she just narrowly avoided a bullet. "Thank god!"

Oh, she was relieved. He wasn't. He was confused.

"Why am I alive?" he asked.

"You were wearing that combat armour we found," Steven explained in his usual detached manner, "you were shot at close range so the pellets haven't dispersed that much," then a hint of melancholy crept into his voice, "If you'd been two steps further away from the ghoul than you were when he shot there'd be nothing left of your throat."

"Huh," Matthew shrugged, trying to comprehend the situation. "It's okay, then."

"Fuck you!" Sophia exclaimed suddenly. "Why the _fuck_ did you fucking _run _at the guy with a _shotgun_? You _wanted_ to get yourself killed?"

"I was trying to save you..."

"Yeah, 'cause since they already had _me_, rushing in to catch their bullets with your face was going to do wonders for the group's longevity!"

Matthew looked at the angry teacher, than at the security guard who looked like he was suppressing a smile, then back to the teacher and said the first honest thing that came to mind.

"You're welcome, you thankless bitch."

Steven chuckled. God save us all, Steven chuckled, for barely a second but he heard it loud and clear. Sophia looked at him completely stunned and then lunged at him and hugged him.

"Stupid fucker," she muttered to his shoulder, "don't you ever do anything like that again!"

He hugged her back and looked at the third member of their group, trying to suppress a smile. Suddenly he felt good, _really _good. Everything felt light and somehow easy and he almost felt like singing and skipping down the mountain. Maybe it was shock. He didn't feel like he was in shock, though. He felt _really_ good. Wasn't that a possible symptom of shock? Meh, who cares.

"Let's go before we turn into ghouls ourselves," he said, gently pushing Sophia away. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. He smiled at her and one corner of her lips twitched upward slightly.

"Yeah... yeah, let's," she sounded tired all of a sudden.

His two companions collected their gear while Matthew sat, applying some medicinal cream on his chest. His hands were numb and shaky but somehow everything felt better than it has ever been. He suddenly realized that the sun setting beyond the mountains to the west painted the landscape in an _amazing _shade of red, that the wind blowing sand and hardy thorny shrubbery was very _soothing_, and his entire body was so light he felt like he'd just float away if the wind picked up. His chest hurt like ass but the pain was somehow a rush. Maybe he _was_ in shock.

He turned back as they were walking away, and looked at the entire scene of battle. They were walking away, all there of them. No one was being left behind dead. And whatever places would loom on the horizon they would see together, for better or worse. He took a deep breath and smiled, and picked up pace to catch up with his friends.

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-04-08 03:35 PM

"Nine out of ten, pretty good, Fran!" Tabitha patted the Crimson Caravans newbie on the shoulder and the fidgety young woman beamed with joy. "Alright, meat-sacks, that's enough wasting ammo for the day! Go get some R&R and pray to _god _I get a couple more days of slave-driving you before you're sent on a run!" she announced and the caravan company new-bloods sighed in relief and made their five-step way to their tents to get some rest. With firing ranges, tents and fire-pits littering the yard behind the caravan office it looked more like a war camp than a business office. The longer the unrest in the town dragged on the more the office came to resemble a fortress as there were less people out on a caravan run at any given moment. Tabitha decided it was probably a good thing. It meant Demetre and Keri were serious about putting all that power struggle bullshit to rest. The state of the settlement irritated Tabitha, seeing as how she came here to escape all the chaos in the first place, but she found it easy to fall into a kind of a routine, which made her a bit calmer than before. Things weren't chaotic enough for her to not have a job she needed to do, and that made the state of things still tolerable.

"Hey, Grognak!" she called out to Charlie, who was boxing in the corner of the yard against a burly rock of a man called Singer or something. "Get your shirt on and say farewell to your boyfriend, you're on charity run with me!"

The beefy man chuckled as Charlie rolled his eyes and took his boxing gloves off.

"I'm coming!" he called back. "Before you turn _me_ into one of your victims as well," he muttered.

"I heard that! You're going to visit Tycho and Keri with me, god knows I'm not the best company so I figured I'll give them the respite of having someone else in the room besides me."

Charlie walked up to her and gave her a mocking smile.

"Gonna have to help you pretend you're a normal person?"

While the man put on his shirt Tabitha saw his boxing partner go inside, and when she was sure he was out of earshot she asked, "what's that guy's name again? Singer?"

"Swinger," he replied. "Why? Interested? A big tough man for the big tough newbie-whippin' bitch?"

"Thought his name was Singer, wanted to ask what the fuck," Tabitha shrugged. "Swinger, though?"

"Yeah, that's what he calls himself. 'Cause he throws a mean punch and can fuck a dozen whores in a row. According to him. I think his real name is Lee."

Tabitha rolled her eyes, grinning.

"Is he actually any good? With a gun I mean?"

"Ever since we started using those M60s we got from the mutants his talent really bloomed. Man has no precision or any talent in planning out a battle, but he can hold one of those machineguns up and firing long enough."

She chuckled again and sighed, the smile dropping from her face.

"I guess it's time to get to it."

The two entered the main building of the caravan office just as the doctor, a woman in her mid forties exited Tycho's room. The doctor looked at the approaching duet and walked up to them, motioning to follow her back to the yard.

"I wanted to talk to you," she started once they were outside.

"Alright..."

"The Sheriff came by yesterday," she cut to the chase immediately. "He asked about Kyle's death and Tycho admitted to killing him."

Not a muscle twitched on Tabitha's face.

"Bullshit," she called out calmly, looking the woman up and down. She was your average hubber, born and raised, and her family has been in the Hub since the start. You could tell by her pudginess, clean wool sweater, ankle-reaching skirt, and proper grammar. Tabitha had learnt that a born hubber was not someone you wanted to have by your side in a firefight, but if one was talking to you, and if it wasn't just them peddling something, it was probably important and worthy of hearing out. Especially with this one. Lara Banks was known as the sour one among the expressive, enterprising hubbers. Still single at her age, Lara was crass, sarcastic and straightforward those rare moments she bothered to talk to another human being. Knowing all that made Tabitha reconsider calling bullshit on what she said.

"Look," the older woman sighed in exasperation, "the Sherriff came by yesterday and the Ranger confessed. I don't care but I thought you might."

"What did the Sheriff say?" Charlie asked, visibly uncomfortable with the news, not like there was any truth to them.

"My patient claimed that Kyle had abandoned them in Irwin, called him a traitor, and accused him of killing one of the other employees deployed there. Keith I think his name was. Mister Tycho admitted his killing of this Kyle was an act of vigilante justice," she shrugged.

Tabitha was staring intently at the woman's eyes, trying to catch any hint that she was bullshitting her. However hard she hoped, it looked like that wasn't the case.

"So where does that leave him?" Charlie asked no one in particular.

Tabitha thought about that for a second.

"Either he moves on to another town or simply acts as a merc, and as far as I know the man, he's probably going to go with the former," she sighed. "How is he?"

"Stable," the woman replied without missing a heartbeat, cold and clinical. "He was burnt badly, but he's recovering quickly enough. I've pumped him full of stimpacks and morphine, he's in pain."

Charlie raised an eyebrow, "is he going to end up an addict?"

"Likely. Though despite the worst being in the past the pain is probably going to be too much to bear without it."

"Not like he'll be happy about it. He'll _probably_ hold it against you but it's not like him to come at you in revenge."

The woman didn't even flinch.

"Neither is it like him to kill a merc from the Hub," Charlie murmured, earning a deadly glare from Tabitha. Lara still showed no trace of giving a shit.

"We'll go see him," she told the doctor while staring at Charlie. "We'll talk to him."

The woman waved her hand dismissively and returned to the building. Charlie shuffled uncomfortably under Tabitha's glare.

"I'm right, though," he offered a childish smile.

"Dumbass," Tabitha spat and walked into the room.

The small room reeked of disease. Tabitha knew what dying smelled and looked like, and that wasn't it, so she was relieved. However, she was just as much concerned when she saw Tycho: the man's eyes were cloudy, his face set in a painful scowl. The left side of his face was covered in yellowing bandages, and some transparent fluid was slowly dripping on his pillow and smearing the non-bandaged side of his face.

"Hey," Tabitha said as softly as she could manage, trying to be delicate and compassionate. "Does it hurt much?"

The ranger shrugged, "only when I think about it."

There was an amount of detachment in the way he spoke those words and the woman found that uncharacteristic and a bit scary.

"Demetre told us what you told him. About Irwin," she said. "And the doctor told us... other things."

Tycho smiled, "Kyle, huh? He had it coming."

Tabitha frowned, "You actually killed him?"

"Yeah," the ranger sighed, "didn't really want to but it was for the best."

The woman smirked, "he was pretty popular. Welcome to the ranks of outcasts, desert ranger."

"He ain't all that, we both know it."

"Worthy of killing, though? And all the shit you're gonna get from the law?"

"You know, usually when we have one of these arguments I'm the one who says that."

Tabitha wasn't fazed, "which is why I find it difficult to accept that you've done it. I'm not saying you've done something bad, the smug bitch had it coming, that ain't no lie, but I thought..."

"… you'd be happier when you'd converted me to your ways?" He offered. "I'm not you, and I'm not going to be you. I just killed another outlaw, no more, no less. Uprooted another weed."

Tabitha was about to ask more but decided against it. Maybe better to wait until he's recovered, who knows what's going through his mind right now.

"What're you going to do?" She asked instead. "Are you gonna leave, or are you gonna maybe work for Crimson?"

"I never came here to stay like you, I'll just move on. Maybe check out Los Angeles. I think. I'm still thinking."

"What about fighting the mutants?" Charlie asked, concerned.

Tycho sighed and stared off into the ceiling. When a minute later he didn't offer any answer, Tabitha decided to leave him to his thoughts and dragged Charlie out with them.

"What do you make of that?" He asked once they were outside the room.

Tabitha looked at the ginger-haired man. The usually laid back caravan guard now seemed concerned, which meant that inside, he was likely quite panicked. She found that pathetic.

"We'll make something of this mess once he's better."

"Better?" Charlie laughed humourlessly. "He's not getting better, he's getting more and more drugged up! He'll be a fucking addict once he's out!"

Tabitha gave him and icy glare.

"We'll see. For now it would be best not to soil our breeches over what _could_ be," Anger flashed in Charlie's eyes. "Let's go see Keri."

Keri was hospitalized in her room with a bullet wound in her shoulder. She didn't consider it that big a deal but her father insisted she'd be treated, in her own words, 'like I was dying'. She gave the two a friendly smile when they entered.

"Hey! Company! Great! You should leave your guns at the door though, if dad sees them in here he'll flip."

Keri was shot by a sniper hiding somewhere in the Hub. The bullet flew threw the window, but, due to the sniper being only average, it missed her head and only grazed her left shoulder.

"No nerve damage, no arteries damaged, and the thing didn't even touch the bone, but my dad insists I'm in tremendous pain and close to bleeding to death," she complained a million times.

"He's your dad, of course he thinks that," Charlie offered with a smile a million times. "That's what they do."

"You're his daughter, that's why he's hiding you away," Tabitha offered coldly.

"Yeah, I know he's insanely overprotective but come on..."

"That's not what I meant. Demetre's a big player in the Hub right now, he leads the most people and he's got a lot of his chips bet on the Hub becoming peaceful again. Of course, people want to put him out of the picture. And how did they put Butch Harris out of the picture?"

"By killing his daughter," Keri thought about it, then looked at Tabitha. "That makes sense."

"Precisely," Tabitha confirmed coldly.

Charlie winced and looked at her like he was about to say something but she shut him up with a glare. Keri was one of the few people who could look past their own ego and see the truth behind what she's saying, her calling the daughter of the owner of Crimson Caravans a liability wasn't _that _likely to come back at her.

"You're right," Keri confirmed thoughtfully, "my dad wants to protect me, and he's been talking a lot about me 'taking a break' in Junktown or somewhere else for a while. God, I'm such a dumb bitch to not have seen this!"

"It's not like he's only thinking about his goals," Charlie tried to smooth the situation, not like there was anything to smooth, "you're still his daughter."

Keri smiled. "I'm still his daughter?" Keri laughed. "I thought I had my daughter-hood revoked for a moment there," then she got serious. "Now that I think about it, I _might_ just take that break. Funny how he never lets me go anywhere and now that I want to stay right here and help him he insists on sending me away."

Tabitha shrugged, "life ain't fair."

"Right," Keri looked at the two of them. "Can you go punch someone somewhere or something, Charlie? I need to have a girl talk with Betty here."

Tabitha looked at Charlie who smiled, nodded and stood up.

"Yeah," he murmured, "either keep your undies on or invite _me_ as well."

"So, you have a few devious plans about the whole situation that's been brewing?" Tabitha asked once Charlie was outside.

"Yeah..." Keri looked at the door. "But before that: why exactly have you been hanging out with him? I don't really get it."

Tabitha sighed, "figured you have enough people helping you and Demetre with the mess in town, so in the meanwhile I could watch out if anything related to the mutants comes up. Needed more men and he seemed like someone who'd be passionate about fighting them, having been on that hunt and all."

"Practical as always," Keri snickered. "I thought it would be something like that, though for some reason I was hoping you'd changed your ways. Still, strange to see you hanging out with such people..."

"Hey, I still hang around Tycho... well, up until recently."

"Yeah, but you _respect_ Tycho."

Tabitha rolled her eyes, "he doesn't mind me being a bitch most of the time, he's not shit in a fight and it's not like I have to try very hard to make him do stuff. He's handy."

"And he's totally into you," Keri giggled. "Charlie, I mean," Tabitha frowned.

"Really?"

"Really. Charlie usually doesn't give a shit about anything, but he's sure giving a lot of shit when he's around _you_."

"Poor sap," Tabitha shrugged.

"Still not over Ian, huh?"

Tabitha frowned and Keri's hand twitched under her angry glare.

"Let's talk about your and Demetre's plans."

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-04-09 02:11 PM

The three vault dwellers inched slowly towards the Hub. After over a weekof shuffling slowly through the wasteland even the trouble-ridden settlement seemed like the Garden of Eden.

Sophia sighed, a little bit weary, but not quite happy or sad. Here she was, returning here. She left convinced that life up here is shit and the best she could do was to pick the lesser of two evils. But the closer to the Glow she came, the more convinced she was that she _could_ 'save the world', unearth the treasure trove of knowledge hidden in the facility and give it to the world. The naïve Sophia. They didn't exactly find nothing, but she was hoping they would find more. Because she returned to being a dumb child. Then she got abducted and in the end they high-tailed it out of the Glow after she was freed, their anti-radiation drugs almost all used up, a lot more knowledge still hidden underground, left to be discovered by someone smarter. Her dreams were grand but real life was neither the extreme she was hoping for nor the one she was afraid of. She squared her shoulders. That's life. That's what she's got. I won't forget it again, she thought with determination.

They made their way through the suburbs of the old Barstow slowly, keeping an eye on the corn-stalk and the occasional remnant of a building protruding from the field for potential danger. There was nothing in her mind apart from the sense of danger as she passed while the first time around all she could think of was how to make things better for the people that live here. If she'd stopped and thought about it for a second she would still want to do it, slip back to being a Samaritan again, but she knew better than to just do what she wanted and what she felt was right, at least she thought so.

The suburbs gave way to Barstow Old Town and Sophia stopped.

"You'll be off, Matt?"

The vault dweller looked at the direction of the Market, frowning in confusion, then shrugged.

"I guess," he replied dismissively.

Sophia looked at the man, noting his expression. He wasn't sure he had to avoid his old comrades any more. Not just that, his entire point of view on the subject changed, and that frown was actually him trying to recall why in the world was he avoiding them in the first place. It seems he got over _his_ naivete and idealism too, at least some of it. She wasn't completely sure he told her the real story of him and his comrades but she figured that if his presence while they talk to the caravan company was beneficial, he would tell.

He hasn't been the same since the Glow, Sophia realized. Actually, he's always been changing since they'd set out from Vault 13. He was honest and humble at first, cold when they'd met up in the Hub after being separated, and then warmed back up since they'd set off. She'd tried, several times, to coax something from him that would explain all these changes, but was unsuccessful. The man seemed a little more relaxed now, more than before they'd descended into the Glow. He was sombre, as always, but it seemed to her like he'd finally come to terms with whatever thoughts made him so sullen.

With Matthew gone, having holed up in the Old Town somewhere, Sophia and Steven proceeded to the Market, to Crimson Caravans Headquarters. The woman, Tabitha, showed her what's what in the real world the last time she was here, like she was some dumb child. While she was thankful, she was determined to show her, and the rest of them, that she wasn't an air-head any more.

She knew how bad things in the Hub were and she knew that what bounty they'd collected in the Glow could make a difference here. She reckoned that if she offered to sell it to Crimson Caravans before anyone else they could gain more favour from their main potential ally, the only group that seemed genuinely interested in helping them and ending the super-mutant menace. Of course, knowing Tabitha, Tycho and Keri, she believed that these people were the best shot at stability in the Hub and selling the high-tech weapons to them would help towards peace in the settlement, and the good-willing side of her was happy with that plan as well.

"What do you make of Crimson Caravans?" Sophia asked her companion quietly as they came nearer to the Market district.

'Smart, strong people," Steven replied laconically, "and their cause is beneficial. They're good. Why?"

"I realized that as far as the fight against the super-mutants is concerned, they're our only allies."

Steven nodded non-committally and she didn't even think about trying to get more from him. He'd say it if he thought it was important. Though come to think about it, Steven came out of the Glow different as well, a bit more closed up, if that was possible, and seemingly a bit more irritable by the looks he'd sometimes give them.

The Market district was in a worse shape than the last time, with all the abandoned buildings, poor folks and thugs hanging around. They hadn't walked ten steps into the district when Steven decided that carrying his assault rifle in his hands was a better idea than having it strapped to his back-pack. There were armed guards sitting by the windows of Crimson Caravan office, and they were met with a levelled rifle and a prompt to state their business or fuck off.

"We're here to see Tabitha or Keri, or both," Sophia said, squaring her shoulders again and trying speak with the most commanding voice she could. "I'm Sophia and this is Steven; they'll _want_ to see us."

The guard said something to his comrade inside and a few minutes later the two were admitted into the building and led to a room where Keri was lying in a bed with her shoulder bandaged and Tabitha was sitting on a chair by the table, her arms crossed at her chest, looking at the two with an all-business expression, though Sophia noticed that the woman seemed sceptic. Well, she'll choke on _that_ when she hears what she has to say.

"Sit down," Keri invited laconically, drawing her knees to her chest and patting on the bed. The two vault dwellers took a seat just as a ginger-haired man entered the room.

"Charlie," Tabitha introduced, "this is Steven and Sophia."

The vault dwellers nodded and the newcomer leaned against the wall, a small pleasant smile on his face.

"So..." Keri started, "how was the Glow? Any extra limbs we should know about?"

"We managed," Sophia shrugged, trying to talk about it like the journey there was nothing out of the ordinary in her life. "Didn't get _everything_ there was to loot there on account of some difficulties," she shrugged again, "but we've got what we need to get into the Brotherhood, and we've also gathered some loot. We figured you might want to have the first pick."

"We've been recruiting quite a bit," Keri replied, "and if what you've got is better than what _we've _got, we might just deal."

Sophia nodded like she didn't care, though she was sure they'll be selling their loot to Crimson. If they were smart, they won't allow the energy weapons and armour piercing bullets to appear in the shops for their enemies to buy, she was sure they'll sell _those_, at least.

"So, you'll be off to the Brotherhood?" Tabitha asked. "What're you going to do once you're in there?"

"See if they know anything more about the mutants, maybe try and make them take interest in the subject..." She realized she sounded quite clueless and decided to drop the bomb, in the most impassive expression she could manage. "Would you happen to know about a place called Mariposa?"

"No," the three wastelanders answered in unison.

"Why?" Tabitha asked.

"Just that we're pretty sure that's where the Super Mutants are made."

She tried not to make it show that she held her breath and looked into their faces waiting for their reactions.

Tabitha's eyebrows shot up in surprise and Sophia almost grinned, "why would you think that?"

"We found records of a pre-war virus. It was tested on animals, made them bigger. It wasn't tested on humans in the Glow, but instead the research was moved to this Mariposa place. That virus sounds like something that could turn humans into super-mutants."

"We'll look into it, then," Tabitha nodded. Sophia noticed by the way she was looking at them that her opinion of them changed for the better. The budding smile was almost too much to hide.

"Well put in me in farmer's overalls and call me Daryl, you kids actually delivered!" Keri laughed.

"Fighting these mutants is important, at least _I_ think so," the man, Charlie said pleasantly, "probably _most_ important. You need any more help, just ask."

"We don't know whether we'll need more help or not," Sophia acknowledged the offer neutrally, "and whether you'll be able to help us where we're going, but thank you for the offer. I'm afraid only the two of us will be able to continue looking things up with the Brotherhood."

"We're planning on going on a caravan run," Tabitha suddenly stated, "basically a circle through each big settlement around, Brotherhood included. We can take you guys there."

The smile was too much to hold and in the last moment Sophia turned it into a small smile of appreciation as she nodded.

"That would be nice. Thanks."

"We have some connections in Necropolis, which we'll be going to after the Brotherhood," Keri said, "we'll compare notes with them and ask them to keep an eye out. I suppose you could try to contact us through _them_ if you really need to."

The vault's teacher felt like a child in a candy shop. Oh yes, they were recognized now. For a brief moment she thought that if these seemingly small accomplishments were something even these mercs were impressed with, her other dreams, the save-the-whole-wasteland ideas, were too naïve for words when you consider, well, reality.

"Thank you," Sophia nodded all business-like, "we'll keep you up to date on what we find then."

Keri's smile withered away slowly and she adopted an all-business expression as well.

"Now then, I'm afraid we have some good news and some bad news."

A bad feeling washed over Sophia.

"The good news is that you're _really_ on to something. The bad news is you have a bounty on your heads for that reason."

Having been trying to hold back her joy one moment and her fear the next threw Sophia into confusion. She looked at the three company workers looking for any more clues before realizing she was scared, and showing it too. She looked at Keri again and mustered all her strength and toughness.

"It's not actually a bounty," Charlie clarified, trying to calm them down. "Just a group of people targeting you."

"Who is targeting us and how did you learn this?" She demanded, her voice almost breaking on the word 'targeting'. For a moment she thought that it wasn't fair that someone, a _person_ or a group of persons, were mad at her while she didn't even do anything as amazing as what she actually wanted to do. She bit her lower lip and chased these thoughts away.

"It's the Children of the Cathedral," Charlie replied, "this religious sort of organization. Have a church here in the Hub, one in Junktown as well. They've been preaching strange stuff, rallying the locals against the businessmen. Also talked about mutation and how good it is, but not in these words. And not about the ghouls. We broke into the church in Junktown, stole the leader's journal. Didn't have anything good really, but said the ones here are on to you two. For opposing their cause."

"The journal they recovered," Keri elaborated, "mentioned that a report came from the Church here in the Hub that two people matching your description have been conspiring to exterminate 'their superiors'."

Yes, Sophia thought, that's both good and bad news. And actually, she thought, the very fact that her actions, _their_ actions for she was not alone, were causing such a reaction meant that they were really making a difference. _This_ is making a change, she realized, and she was going to stick with it.

"These people, do their worship super mutants?" Steven asked, calm as usual.

"No," Charlie shook his head, "or at least not openly. The Children have been _preparing _the people for that. They say people will always want to kill each other unless they change. Something like they must 'embrace the fire and evolve'. Sounds a lot like Super-Mutants to me."

"And since they've got it in for you for going against, as they said, their superiors," Tabitha concluded, "it's safe to say that what these people are _really _talking about are Super-Mutants."

"How did they find out, though?" Sophia asked, all business again.

Tabitha sighed, irritated. "We don't know, but it's probably the same way they learned about _us_."

Sophia realized that for a moment she was afraid that that irritated sigh was directed at her, and was disturbed by how much she actually cared.

"We went to their church in Junktown because no one knows us there," the woman continued, "and that was an _excellent_ call. They're on to _us_ as well, they know we've offered to help you, they know that we're all trying to end their threat."

"Not surprising," Charlie added. "They've got a lot of people on their knees for what they preach."

"So, I think you should stay with us for the night," Keri offered. "If you've got the key to the Brotherhood bunker, letting you go off into the streets for the night is dumb."

Sophia nodded with determination.

"Thanks."

They were offered a tent with two bedrolls in the yard and dumped their back-packs there. The caravan people left them alone for the moment to collect their thoughts and rest while they were waiting for Demetre to finish up other business and come take a look at what they had to offer. Sophia laid down on her bedroll and sighed. Steven stayed outside the tent, probably taking a look at his guns or something.

All things considered, she was doing fine, she thought. She might not have had a personal stake at the super-mutants' destruction, but she has one now. She was doing _something_ and succeeding at it, even if she wasn't enthusiastic about it, felt great.


	27. Spot

A/N: They have a saying where I'm from that the first pancake in the batch is always burned. And this fic is my first pancake. And I've only been doing it for experience and the hell of it, so I decided, for the experience and the hell of it, to change up the style of the narration a bit. The last few chapters were a struggle to make consistent stylistically and since this pancake is already burned I might as well get as much from it as I can with as little struggle as possible :).

* * *

><p>"Harold?"<p>

There were many things he wanted to say to the ghoul. He wasn't exactly sure how or what he was going to say but he knew he should and he wanted to. Harold's home was empty, though.

"Slappy?" Matthew tried the loony living in the same building. "Where's Harold?"

"Gone!" the madman laughed. "Gone north! North to greener pastures! North to less sandy pastures! The pastures where you can actually gra... can actually gra... pasture!"

He returned to the ghoul's room. It was cramped with all the memorabilia of a lengthy and troubled life, though he could tell some things were missing: the two of his favourite books from the shelf above the bed, his old ruck-sack from his times as a travelling merchant... Looked like the ghoul really did shed his old life and left.

The vault dweller lied down on the bed and sighed. Sounded pretty nice, just up and leaving. He was hoping Harold would be alright. Meh, he was old and wise, of course he would be. He should worry about himself more.

He smiled and closed his eyes, sadness creeping just right outside of his thoughts of probably not seeing Harold ever again. What can you do, he thought. The ghoul is off to find happiness and just _maybe_ it will all work out for him. Good for him. The best _he_ could do was go on, without being selfish about people trying to do something for themselves instead of him.

He dreamt of a ghoul walking the wastes, a badass in black leathers and a .223 pistol in his hand, maybe a mutt by his side and a straight, broken road ahead.

Maybe, the ghoul said in his dream, you should see through this whole mutant shenanigan and then set off like this as well. Finish what you started, take the experience and do something you actually want to.

The sleeping vault dweller smiled and nodded.

* * *

><p>Bakersfield outskirts<p>

2161-04-13 11:10 AM

There wasn't a single cloud in the sky and it loomed above the wasteland like a monochrome dome of the post-apocalyptic arena, a manufactured piece of scenery. He remembered something he'd read when he was little and looked at the horizon and then looked right above. The sky above was a darker shade of blue than by the horizon. He would come up with various possible explanations for that to pass the time as he walked to Necropolis, alone.

He intended to follow the caravan Sophia had told him about, but then decided he didn't really feel like making a detour through Shady Sands. He wanted to go and do things _now_.

When the dark jagged outline of Bakersfield came into view Matthew got his mind off the sky and onto the settlement before him. On this Set person who might be cross with him because he got in with Edward's bunch in the metro tunnels the last time he was here. He couldn't remember much of the settlement's layout and just skirted around the ruins until his Pip-Boy told him the settlement itself was just a short walk through the ruins and then dove right into the city. First he had to go through the suburbs with their orderly rows of houses built from cheap and fragile materials that had by now turned into orderly rows of debris piles. Crushed cars underneath them, probably in the old garages. Dried pools in now sand-covered backyards, discoloured. Only mailboxes standing defiantly in front of homes, most poles bent from heat and age but standing nonetheless. Small holes in the ground around lonesome benches by the wider streets, tin bus stops scavenged for some other use. He pressed on. An older part of the town, residential. Sturdy rows of houses squeezed together. Art deco, bleached of colour, junk on the sidewalks, small shrubs in-between. He'd been here before. He knows that house, and that one. He let a bad man walk when he could've killed him right there on the side-walk. He remembered that day and he remembered the most useful thing he'd learnt back then: there are radscorpions lurking about.

The bodies have been moved from the metro station, which was now abandoned. He could still make out the faint remains of blood pools on the dusty floor. No one had been here in quite some time. He got back to the surface and sat down on a bench next to the metro station's entry. He'd sat here a lifetime ago, thinking about going to the Watershed alone, and his companions told him they'd go with him. 'I refuse to have to live with abandoning a friend' he remembered Tabitha say. He felt something sickening twist around in his gut. 'The day a wastelander merc, one as mean as Tabitha to boot, would do the right thing when a vault dweller wouldn't...' Matthew thought. Well the day had come and gone a long time ago. He chuckled, suddenly happy to be alone.

He got back to the metro station and stood on the mezzanine above the tracks, looking both ways, wondering where Edward could be. He could see the sky right above his head through a hole in the ceiling, deep blue. He didn't fancy running into one of Set's ghouls while looking for Ed. Alas, he couldn't say which way the man could've moved.

He sat down on a cold concrete bench and lit a cigarette. He could go to the Watershed. Someone would be there, no doubt about it. Could be Ed's men, but he doubted it. Set's goons, more likely. He could go down the tunnels to the next station, to that place the ghouls affectionately called the Hotel. What would he find there? He remembered faintly a particular ghoul. Last time he was here the ghoul came out to greet the caravan when they arrived at the Hotel. He was lively, Matthew recalled, and friendly. One of Set's? Could be. But he was good friends with Crimson Caravans, or at least it looked that way.

Matthew sighed and smiled, sagging on the bench, weighing his options. Easier on the heart, if not easier to decide.

He went with Watershed because it was easier to scout from afar and was at the edge of the city where there would be less people and the wasteland would be closer to him if he needs to escape. He could remember the way, more or less, and went there at a careless, relaxed pace, only drawing his rifle, slowing down and concentrating on his surrounding when he knew it was around the corner. He slipped into a narrow alleyway on his left and turned right, coming closer to the watershed but with the line of three-story residential buildings covering him from anyone who might be watching from the watershed's parking lot. When he reckoned the middle of that parking lot was to his right he climbed inside a house through a window. A house long abandoned. Looted, going by the empty bookshelves and rotting paper littering the ground. Furniture covered with a thick layer of dust just like the floor, except in spots where there were giant footprints. He bent over and looked at them. Super mutant, no doubt about it. Tycho would know how fresh they are, he thought, but he had no idea himself. Probably the mutants that once were in the Watershed had come here too at some point.

He went up the stairs, the old wood creaking underneath his footsteps. He climbed carefully. He went into an old children's room. Old toys scattered about, covered with dust. 'Ralphie' poster on the wall next to a 'Captain Cosmos' one. A teddy bear on the chest of drawers, its sad beady eyes fixed upon him. He went to the window and looked out. Quiet. Dead as the grave. Not a sign of movement, not a sound. Air shimmering where the sun hit the asphalt of the parking lot. The monochrome dome of the sky above the ruins. He looked at the watershed's windows through his binoculars. No sign of life. It seemed abandoned, like a shrivelled mummy under the scorching sun. He scanned the parking lot meticulously. An old blood pool. And another. And others still. So many. He tried to find the one that was Ian's and then remembered there wouldn't be one. It was a plasma bolt to the chest. There was no blood pool. He put down the binoculars and looked at the parking lot again. It was like nothing happened. Like he never lived. But there was still his grave, he remembered. He just wasn't exactly sure where it was.

Someone cleared their throat right behind him and his body suddenly went numb.

"Well what is this now?" he heard a voice behind him, thick, guttural, but somehow seemingly wise instead of stupid, like it should have sounded. He turned around slowly and saw it, just on the other side of the doorway. Super mutant. Blue skin. The Grim Fucking Reaper.

"I spy with my little eye... a spy!" the mutant singsonged as it inclined its head and walked into the room sideways in one practised and easy motion. Graceful. Respectful, somehow.

"I'm not a spy," was all Matthew could think to say. He knew he should be reaching for his gun right now but he wasn't. Couldn't. It was like he had no arms any more.

"_Exactly_ what a spy would say!" the mutant pointed out, sounding like a mother chiding a child. This is no ordinary mutant, the vault dweller suddenly thought.

"Someone who's not a spy but was accused of being a spy would say that too," he offered.

"Hm..." the mutant stroked its chin, thoughtful. "I guess. But what are you doing here, then?"

"My friend died down there," he said the first thing that came to mind. "Long ago. I... came to pay my respects."

"Aw, I'm very sorry to hear that," the mutant said. It sounded really sincere and really melodramatic.

"Yeah. Uh... thanks. I, uh... I think he was buried somewhere around here but I can't remember where. I think it was east of the Hotel, outside of town. On a dune, a dying tree was growing next to it."

"And a rock cairn over the grave?"

"Uh... yeah. You know where it is?"

"Only heathens and sinners get buried outside cemeteries," the mutant said, suspiciously.

"Only heathens and sinners go to old cemeteries with shovels," Matthew retorted. The mutant's mouth stretched into something resembling a grin.

"Sounds fair," the mutant said. "How did he die? If you don't mind me asking..."

"No... A plasma bolt to the chest."

"Oh! Who did the awful deed?" The mutant frowned again.

"Super... Raiders."

"Super Raiders?" the mutant asked, confounded.

"Uh... yeah. That's when... when raiders have plasma weapons."

"Oh! Sounds awful!"

"Mistress Tabitha, you have found a spy!" he suddenly heard a robotic voice exclaim. An eye-bot whirred into the room and hovered above the mutant's shoulder, its sensors and that mean-looking laser emitter pointing at him.

"We don't know he's a spy, Rhonda!"

"All humans are spies!"

"I sell iguana sticks in Junktown," he defended himself, realizing that somehow childish defences were best in this situation. "I don't _spy_."

"Well..." the mutant thought about it, "those iguana sticks aren't _that_ much of a crime, I guess. Do people still really eat them?"

"Uh... yes. Yes they do."

"Then the Master is right," the mutant concluded mysteriously. "Sit down, maybe-spy, we need to sort this out."

Matthew swallowed and somehow managed to move his legs to the small bed and sit down on it. The mutant walked to the middle of the room and sat down on the floor with a loud thud.

"My name is Tabitha Bleu," the mutant introduced herself, "and my friend here is Rhonda. Rhonda Hightower."

Wait, what?

"I told you _my_ name..." the mutant half-threatened when Matthew didn't say anything.

"I'm... Mike. Mike Phillips."

"Michael," the mutant corrected. "Michael is a pretty name. 'Mike' is what little boys call Michaels because they don't know any better."

Matthew nodded stiffly.

"Nice to meet you, Michael."

"Likewise. Miss Rhonda."

"We should be dragging him to the Vats already, mistress," the robot opined.

"Wait, Rhonda, let's see what sort of a person he is."

"So Michael," Tabitha narrowed her... its small beady eyes at him, "how do you feel about killing and maiming?"

"I don't like it, really," he fathomed a guess.

"Not even when you get angry?"

"I, uh... I prefer pacing and throwing things when I'm angry," he chuckled nervously. "I lack the upper body strength for maiming."

"But you would like to, wouldn't you? To be able to kill and maim?"

"Uh... No, that's mean."

"Even if the bitch has it coming?"

Matthew stuttered, "Depen- Depending on what she's done... But... I prefer... I don't know, arresting?"

"How about 'went around _fucking_ Ian so he couldn't save me when I was _kidnapped_ and _killed__'?"_

"I... you mean like... you're..."

Matthew took a deep breath. The mutant was clearly unhinged, he needed an answer quickly.

"Sex is... not a crime. You should punish those who killed... you."

The mutant said nothing. Just stared off into space. Matthew shifted, just barely. The silence was tense.

"Who... who killed me?"

Tabitha looked up at the vault dweller like he was supposed to know. His mind raced a mile a second trying to make sense of this.

"No one killed you, Mistress," the robot suddenly chipped in, hovering down close to her shoulder. "You're still breathing, right? The mean _human_ just wants to confuse you."

Confuse. Matthew stopped at that word and suddenly saw the light at the end of this.

"Who killed who?" he asked innocently.

"No one killed no one!" the robot replied sternly, but the mutant cut it off.

"Tabitha killed Rhonda by fucking with Ian! The bitch killed her!"

"But, uh... _you're _Tabitha."

The mutant stopped, her mouth agape.

"Here he goes, trying to confuse you again," the robot said venomously. "Maybe if he took a bath in the Vats he'll start telling the truth."

"Hm..." the mutant muttered thoughtfully. "Yes, yes, he will, won't he? We meta-humans don't lie and cheat and kill and maim, we're better than that!" she stood up. "We don't go hungry or sick or greedy so no one will stop you from telling me," she walked up to him and bent over so her face was almost touching his, "who killed... me?"

Matthew swallowed.

"Okay," he just wanted to get out of this situation somehow. "Okay, let's go, uh... take a bath."

"The _Lieutenant_ is in town," the mutant said, saying 'Lieutenant' with love and admiration as she yanked the vault dweller off the bed. "You'll go with him and you'll become a meta-human like us and you'll start telling the truth and then you can then tell me the truth."

"Okay..." he said, raising his head slightly in the air in a non-threatening gesture as she pushed him through the door and soon followed, going through the doorway so carefully again.

"So... where... where are you going to take me?"

"To the Lieutenant, silly, I just said!"

"And where is he going to take me?" he asked, going down the stairs slowly.

"To the Base!"

"And where is that?"

"The human is probing for information!" the robot warned. "Tell him nothing, Mistress!"

"Oh... uh, Rhonda, he's going to be one of us now, he's alright," she assured warmly as they both got down the stairs. "But I'm no cartographer, I don't know."

"It's... going to be alright, though?"

"Oh yes! You won't go hungry, you won't get sick! And you'll get to do something useful with your life, not just sell foul iguanas! You'll be fighting for the Unity!"

Matthew went through the back door into the alleyway first. Even with his back to the mutant he knew she'll stop for just a second to get through the doorway without breaking it and took the chance. He broke into a run, as fast as he could.

He'd made it to the other side of the alley when he heard the crash of the mutant breaking though the doorway. It howled furiously.

He'd jumped on the nearest windowsill when a red laser beam raced past his shoulder and hit a fridge inside the house, melting a hole in it through-and-through.

He'd jumped off the windowsill and into the house and had made it three steps to the left when the wall around the window exploded and the mutant flew into the house like a furious cannonball from hell.

He dashed into the living room and right past the doorway outside, the doors thankfully removed from their hinges and probably re-purposed somewhere. He'd made it ten paces outside when at the same time the mutant burst through the wall behind him and he suddenly realized the small square he was running towards had no cover. In plain sight either the robot would shoot him down or the mutant would catch up to him in mere seconds. He looked around and realized he had no other cover to get behind, at least not fast enough. He drew his sidearm and turned around, determined to make a final stand.

The mutant was running at him, fast. The robot was in the doorway. Another laser beam raced so close to his left temple he could've sworn he felt some of his hair get singed. Out of reflex he shot back at the robot. The bullet hit its mark and the machine shook a few times in the air, then something inside it blew up with a small sharp bang and the robot fell on the doorway with a loud thud.

The mutant's feet slid through the ground, the beast trying to stop and finally coming to a halt half a metre before the vault dweller. It stood right before him, its eyes on him but at the same time looking past him. He had his pistol aimed at its head from his hip but he was so scared he couldn't shoot.

Then the mutant turned around, slowly. It went back, to the doorway. To the robot. The mutant fell on its knees and took the eye-bot in its arms, small pieces of electronics pouring out the hole the miniature explosion made. The mutant put it back down.

"Rhonda..." the mutant moaned.

The vault dweller still couldn't move.

"Rhonda!" the mutant roared to the sky, heartbroken and furious.

"They killed you again!" she exclaimed to the robot hysterically. "You're dead again, _they_ killed you... I... _I_ killed you again!"

In some corner of his paralysed mind Matthew realized the obscene event unfolding before him somehow made sense, in its own, nonsensical way.

"The fucking bitch!" the mutant raged on. "I fucking _killed_ you again! The fucking bitch! The fucking _bitch_..." the mutant broke to a sob.

The next moment the mutant got on its feet and Matt involuntarily took a deep breath, bracing himself. Then the mutant started running, the other way. Towards the house. Straight into the wall. It hadn't picked up enough speed by then and crashed into the wall head-first without crashing through it, pounding its face something fierce.

"The _bitch_!" it roared at the sky when it regained its footing and then it put her hands on the wall and pounded her face against it again. "You killed Rhonda again, you bitch!"

He might have thought this all made some sort of sense in that disturbed little mind of the mutant, but he also realized that the scene before him was insane and that thought finally made his legs obey him a little bit as he started inching slowly back.

"Go to hell you fucking bitch!" the mutant started screaming again. "Go to hell and fuck _yourself_ you raider-sucking brahmin-fondling..."

Someone came out of an alleyway nearby and looked at the scene Matt was getting away from, then at Matt. Purple robes. Hair combed back with grease. Asian. Could've been either a man or a woman, he couldn't tell. Matthew looked at the newcomer and suddenly regained control of his body. He turned around and ran. Then he thought about it and turned around and shot at the newcomer. Having shot behind him while running he predictably missed but the shot dissuaded the robed person from firing that laser pistol he or she was holding. At least, long enough for the vault dweller to round a corner and get out of sight.

He ran for a long time. He didn't know where he was running but he knew he had to get away. He took the smaller alleyways and sometimes ran straight through derelict buildings so he wouldn't be seen. At some point, when his muscles started aching, his body finally yielded to his brain, which was telling him to just stop, hide, and catch his breath. He ducked into the nearest building and sat down on the small makeshift bed, panting. He rubbed his face with his palms and tried to think of a way out. He didn't even have an idea about where he was. He looked out the window and slowly realization dawned on him. The place on the other side was the small parking lot where the Crimson Caravans wagon pulled up when they arrived in Necropolis ages ago. He was in the Hotel. He'd run deeper into the ruins. Fucking great.

He struggled to catch his breath and reign in his panicking mind. He should've noticed it sooner, the house was furnished with a _makeshift_ bed, there was a _handmade_ wooden night stand beside it and an old _scavenged_ wardrobe across the room with doors ajar and dusty _leather armour_ thrown inside. It was a house someone lived in, _after_ the war, _of course_ he was in an inhabited portion of Bakersfield. He should've noticed it sooner. He looked out the window again. The place, which he was sure was the social centre of Necropolis, looked abandoned. Something happened here, he realized. And that something was probably Super Mutants.

He got up from the bed a minute later when he was sure he was paying attention to the surroundings again instead of panicking and he took another look at the city outside. No sign of life. No sign of a fight. Nothing. Most likely, he reasoned, the Super Mutants came and took over, killed everyone or drew them away, and set up shop.

He remembered the person in purple robes. He'd seen that outfit before, on Children of the Cathedral. And he or she drew on him.

"Fuck," he swore quietly and rubbed his forehead. "Fuck!"

The mutants had human friends and took over Necropolis.

Oh but he _knew_ that already. Sophia had warned him the night she came to tell him they'd be travelling to the Brotherhood with Crimson. But he left the Hub and forgot all about, being what he considered was away from the threat made him ignore it. Stupid.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself not to panic. He walked to the other side of the room, trying to think up and escape plan. Nothing came to mind. He was in Necropolis taken over by Super Mutants and he needed to get out. He would need to _sneak_ out. No two ways about it.

He made it out through the back and made his way to the nearest metro station crouching down. At least underground he won't have to keep an eye on each of the million windows around for enemies. He stopped at the stairs down and looked back. The sun was still high up. The sky loomed over the Necropolis 'main square' like an arena dome that it turned out to actually be. Lazy wind dragged sand through the streets and the pavement. No other movement in sight. This place was a ruin once again. He entered the train station.

He listened closely but couldn't hear any movement. He walked up to the maintenance passage and looked in. Quiet. Dark. Smell of dust and wet soil. He fished out his flash light and turned it on and walked into the darkness. He manoeuvred around small metal tables, past the bathroom door and a Protectron charging bay. He made it to a hallway lined with exposed wires and pipes when he heard a shuffle. He pointed his flash light at its source immediately and saw a ghoul sitting on the ground in a nook ahead.

"Edward?"

It was dark but Matthew had realized on his previous visit here that ghouls were very easy to distinguish, by the combination of damage the radiation had done to them. And Edward, as he recalled, was a particularly broad-shouldered ghoul with wisps of grey hear stuck to his head and waving like a tangled spiderweb almost to his shoulder-blades.

"Who... who are you?" the ghoul inquired, pulling away as Matthew approached him and crouched down to see if he was alright.

"Matt. I, uh... I was here some time ago, with three friends. And a dog. We fixed the old water pump?"

The ghoul squinted at the human.

"Oh... oh, I do seem to remember something fitting that description," he paused. "What in the _world_ are you doing back _here_, boy?! This place's gone to hell, it has!"

"Super Mutant attack?"

"The fuckers came out o'nowheres! No questions, no nothin', just opened fire and down we ghouls go! Put up a fight, though. Tried, at least."

"They killed everyone?"

"Well... the smart'uns left when the fightin' broke out, but... pretty much yeah."

"Any idea what they wanted?"

"Beats me!"

"And the Children? The people in the purple robes?"

"Those doctors who set up shop by the watershed? What about them? Reckon they're as dead as most of us ghouls."

"Reckon they have something to do with this because they're still around and one of them tried to shoot me all the same."

Edward paused.

"You're pulling my leg."

"No. Afraid not."

"_Damn..._"

The vault dweller realized he hadn't asked the most important question.

"Are you alright?"

"Me? Oh yeah, just caught a bullet with my left arm. Had to lie down a bit. S'all better now."

"When did the shooting happen?"

"A week ago, I reckon."

"And you've been down here the whole time? Healing your arm?"

"Well, uh... ain't got any stims on me and we ghouls don't heal like you normals do..."

"Okay," Matthew stood up. "Care to get the hell out of here with me?"

The mutant shuffled.

"Is the way clear?"

"No idea."

The ghoul thought about it.

"Well, beats sitting around here."

Matthew helped him stand up and the ghoul drew his ancient 10mm and sighed.

"Won't be much help in a fight if we meet one of them uglies."

"Only an answered prayer is of any help if we meet them. What's the fastest way out of town?"

"Uh... turn right when you're in the train tunnel, left at the fork two stations down and go up when you hit the terminal. Pretty much outside of town."

Matthew turned off his flash light when they got to the train tunnel and the two shuffled along slowly, right hands on the wall and scanning the area with their ears. No sound in the tunnels apart from their footsteps. Sudden, seemingly deafening noises when they stepped on something or kicked something in the darkness. A thud the volume of a siren when Matthew kicked something soft and heavy and the sound echoed around him like crazy. No more wall to his right three paces ahead. Metro station. It took them ten minutes to get to the other side, inching along the walls with extra caution. The second station took half an hour to cross on account of a Super Mutant on the mezzanine. It was sat on a bench supposedly taking watch, the small car-battery light not managing to illuminate the station below. They pressed on at a snail's pace.

"But boss-man said there's someone in the city and I want to hunt it down!" The mutant suddenly complained. The vault dweller and the ghoul froze.

"Don't be silly," they heard a human voice up above, "they have enough mutants on the job right now."

"It's never too many!"

Matthew reached out behind him and found Edward and pulled at his shoulder slightly, motioning him to move on.

"If everyone goes, for example, to the watershed, then everybody's in the watershed and there's no one to watch for the insurgent when they slip away, which they _will_ do if the said insurgent slips away from the watershed quickly enough."

The human sounded exasperated, like trying to talk sense to a small child and losing their patience.

"What's an in-surge-int?"

When they were back in the train tunnel and some ways away from the station they carefully crossed to the left side and moved on, allowing the curving tunnel to take them in the right direction. The next station had crumbled badly, the roof having collapsed long ago and the station itself a junkyard of debris. They made their way alongside the walls still and moved on. The next station was crumbled also but before they could enter it properly they saw another ghoul, sitting right by the tunnel's mouth, an assault rifle beside him alongside two boxes of ammo, the third one in his hands, taking the ammo from the box and putting it in an empty clip. The mutant had no nose and his lips appeared scorched. His right eye was covered in scar tissue and his left one was red. Some sort of an iron ring was placed on his head like a makeshift crown and his head above it was bare bone. His lean body, what was visible of it where makeshift metal armour didn't cover it, was in parts melted to the bone and in parts covered with growths the size of an orange.

"Set," Matthew heard Edward breathe behind him. Set turned his head and looked at them slowly.

"So, the tunnel rat appears," the ghoul said slowly, his voice not as gravelly as the other ghouls' but still with a menacing edge to it. "And he appears with... a norm? Surprise. Name's Set, runner. Exactly what brings you to the coolness of my shadow?"

"I stumbled here accidentally," Matthew shrugged. With Necropolis down for the count Set didn't scare him any more.

"Then Lady Luck has no kisses for you. You come with a name tag?"

"I'm not a dog."

Set just looked at him and the next moment he chuckled menacingly.

"Fair enough. You retreating from this place as well? It seems we walk the same paths."

"You're not comin' with us!" Edward exclaimed. "We're leavin' you ass to die here! Your gun ain't worth nothin' against _these_ things!"

"I'll let you walk with us if you answer one question," Matthew offered.

"You can't mean that!" Edward objected.

"Interesting, Not-a-dog. Wiggle your tongue some more."

"Last time I was here these mutants had taken up shop in the watershed. On your turf. I want to know what they wanted. I want to know all you know about them."

"Interesting question. You look sideways at the monsters lurking in the bush when you walk the road. Make sure I make a safe retreat and I'll wiggle my tongue as well."

"Don't trust you. Won't kill me not to know anyway. Good luck," he motioned for Ed to follow as he started walking again.

"Hey, down boy, down! I see you take to people like a sledgehammer to a nail. I'll talk."

Matthew stopped and turned around.

"Talk."

"Muties showed up with guns and fury. Merched into the town, said they were looking for what was below. Or more specifically, _who_ was below."

"The vault. They were looking for vault-dwellers."

"True. I told the biggest dog there that they found us."

"_You're_ vault dwellers?"

"True. We followed the call of the sirens underground but the giant cog got tired of sliding shut when it was almost there. The green glow leaked inside. Made _us_."

"You told them that."

"I did. And they were furious."

"They didn't want you anymore?"

"No. Said we were defective merchandise. Taken too many rays. So they told me things and told me they would tombstone me if I didn't dog to their words."

"What did they ask for?"

"They wanted to infest my watershed. And they wanted me to tell them if I come across those who went underground but weren't burned. Or other undergrounds."

"Vault dwellers and vaults?"

"Indeed. Pure-strain, they said. Untouched by mutation."

"Specific vault dwellers? Specific vaults?"

"Any that met the criteria."

"Why?"

"Because they were pure."

"Why is that important?"

"You know the answer to that the same as me, runner."

"And who would you have to pass this information to?"

"One of the blue ones in black, squatting in the watershed."

Matthew thought about that.

"Any idea where they came from?"

"None."

"Right. Let's go then."

"Really?" Edward asked incredulously.

"Really."

They went on in the darkness. Set walked first. They passed another station quietly. Then there was the terminal. Awash in bright floodlights hooked up to a generator above. Two Super Mutants, shoulder-to-shoulder on the mezzanine. A train in the terminal, single carriage, its end a few meters out of the tunnel and into the station.

"We stay here and we sit like ducks," Set opined. Matthew nodded and lied flat on his stomach, shouldering his rifle.

"I'll take one down and you run behind that carriage for cover."

"Done," Set chuckled. "Hope you run _fast_."

He took aim carefully with his sniper rifle. At this distance, firing from a prone position, he had no chances of missing the head since the mutant stood stock-still, on alert to keep watch. He squeezed the trigger and the mutant's head was knocked back. It fell to its knees. The ghouls made a dash for the train and the other mutant fired at them, hitting the corner of the carriage, instead of firing where the muzzle flared. Matthew got up slowly and got to the other side of the tracks. The mutant swore and started descending to the platform from the mezzanine. Set poked out and sprayed him with bullets while Matt dashed to the cover, the mutant returning fire a second after he was home free. Then nothing. For a whole minute, nothing. Set poked his head out for a split second.

"The mutant hides himself behind the path down."

"He's not attacking?" Edward asked.

"Maybe there's reinforcements coming this way from behind us. They certainly have the communication technology for it," Matthew guessed.

"Then we need to give this place the laugh _now_," Set concluded. "We need to make him poke his head out and shoot at something that isn't us..."

"How do we do that?" Edward asked.

Set's smile broadened as he swiftly got his hands on Edward and pushed him out from behind cover. The ghoul fell on the ground and Matthew heard a grunt. The mutant was ready to shoot.

He understood Set's plan and that it was comparatively sound, if not very good for Edward's well-being. But Matthew had none of it. He jumped out of the cover just as the mutant took its aim, and he fired at its head from standing position. A grazing wound. The mutant just shook his head in annoyance. Set poked out halfway from the cover and started shooting the thing up while Matthew crouched, took aim again, and shot it in the head again. The mutant's head was knocked backwards. It shuffled on its knees and brought his head forward and looked at them. Then, slowly, he put his head down on the railing of the escalator and died.

"Their heads are so thick it takes a while to them to receive their death certificates," Set chuckled as Matt helped Edward stand up and made sure he was alright.

"He tried to kill me!" Edward accused, his voice shaky and scared.

"Good observation," Set grinned. "It was either all of us waiting for reinforcements to show up or just one of us."

"You wanted to shoot it while it was killing me!"

"True."

"We should go," Matthew interrupted them. "There might be more of them on our trail."

He was the first on the mezzanine, followed by Edward and then Set who took the opportunity to loot the mutant downstairs, then the other one on the mezzanine and then even find the radio the mutant probably used to warn his friends.

"Good tech. Makes my shadow grow."

"You ain't got no shadow no more!"

They got to the surface. The sun was hanging low in the sky and the western edge of the arena dome was painted in oranges, pinks and reds and didn't look like a dome anymore. Beyond the humble metro terminal lay the broken heaps of suburban homes. They were essentially out of Bakersfield again. Matthew breathed out the stale and dusty metro tunnel air and breathed in the dry outside air. Refreshing, still. Then he raised his pistol and aimed at Set's head and pulled the trigger. The once leader of Necropolis was dead before he hit the ground. Matthew took his backpack off of him and checked his supplies and then gave the backpack to Edward.

"Take it. You'll need it."

"You killed Set..." the ghoul was only surprised, not terrified. A reaction Matthew had gotten used to.

"He tried to kill _you_."

"Thanks... Thanks for standing up for me then..." the ghoul took the backpack. "And you... you saved me back there. Broke cover before the mutant zeroed in on me. You could've been shot!"

I _have_ been shot doing this sort of thing, Matthew thought.

"Last time I was here," he said, "because of me five of your people got killed and you didn't even blame me."

"Because that was none of your fault!"

"Maybe. But you were nice to me. A friend. I don't let my friends die."

"Well I be damned..." Edward chuckled as he shifted on his feet.

"Set had supplies. Should take you as far as the Hub."

"I ain't got no business there."

"I need a favour. You need to let them know what happened here. About the Children. Demetre Romara, he runs Crimson Caravan in the Hub, has his suspicions about it but he isn't sure. He _needs_ to know for sure. You need to tell him. There's Children in Junktown and in the Hub and god knows where else, each of these places, the same will happen there as what happened here. You need to warn them."

"I figure they'd listen to _you_ better."

"I need to go the other way. Brotherhood. Might have a chance of pitting them against the mutants as well."

"Wow... just... Wow! You're... you're a pretty resourceful guy to say the least!"

"I hope so. Look, we have to go. More mutants might be coming. Can I count on you to speak to Demetre?"

"Demetre Romara, Crimson Caravan, got it."

"If he doubts what you say tell him it's what I told you to say. Matthew Coyle. Vault 13. Killer of Daren Hightower. He's one of the few people who know these things..."

"Vault 13... So your people..."

"...are in danger from these mutants as well."

"Well... What can I say... Godspeed you!" he paused, thinking, "Vault Dweller."

He felt like an extension of the Vault's will once and it had made him sick. Not this time. He's going to plunge into the Brotherhood, likely pretty hostile territory, and protect his people from these monsters in search of vaults. _That_ was meaningful. _That_ he could live his life doing.

He started down the path north, doing something he actually wanted to do now.


	28. Draw, Part One

A/N: Still ain't got no rights to Fallout... :(

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-04-10 07:23 AM

He was woken up by something cool and wet brushing against his hand. He tried opening his eyes but only the right eyelid rose. He felt a small pain and itch on his left eye when he tried prying it open, and then remembered to leave it alone. The left side of his face was fucked, he remembered as he looked at the thing that woke him. Dogmeat was looking at the ranger with those dumb fun-loving puppy eyes.

Crimson Caravans medic walked into the room. She looked at Dogmeat like one looks at a particularly messy pile of vomit that needs cleaning up and started urging it out of the room.

"Come on, out you go! This is no place for dogs!"

"It's okay, he can stay. He's not doing anything wrong."

The woman looked at him condescendingly.

"How much do you know about medicine?" she asked.

The ranger rubbed the sleep and water out of his eyes.

"Not much. Basic first aid I'm good at, though. Why?"

"Well _I_ know a lot about medicine and it's my expert opinion that having dogs in infirmaries isn't exactly safe," she found an empty bottle of water and teased the dog with it, then, seeing it was paying attention, threw it into the corridor. Dogmeat ran off after the bottle and the doctor shut the door, kicking it twice to make sure it stayed shut. "This place is overflowing with mercenary louts kicking back all day and no one can find the time to repair the mother-loving door," she mumbled.

"Dogmeat wasn't doing anything wrong," the ranger protested, sniffling.

"It wasn't," the woman agreed, "but the lice and bacteria and God knows what else in its fur doesn't do wonders for the sterility of this place. How do you feel?"

Tycho yawned and stretched slowly, wincing in pain. Every muscle in his body was tense and aching and he found that his sides and back were constantly in pain: the skin hurt where it was burnt and the muscles hurt because of all the time he spent lying down, and probably morphine withdrawal. He made it clear he didn't want any of that stuff the first time he woke up with enough presence of mind to object, but by the shaking of his hands, the constant nausea and restlessness he figured it was too late. There was also this apathy and irritation, though he couldn't be sure whether it was because of the drugs or because of what he had to go through in Irwin and after that.

The doctor retrieved an old clipboard from her desk in the corner and started reading through it.

"You've been going out about town for a few days now, right?"

Tycho nodded.

"As I always say, the best medicine is to get out there and get over it," the woman shrugged, "besides, there's nothing more I can really do for you, except check up on your progress every once in a while."

Tycho knew the Sheriff had agreed to cover his medical bill despite being extremely unsatisfied with the ranger, and he assumed the woman did as much as she was willing to do for the sum she'd been paid. Goodness forbid anyone in this hell-hole does anything for free.

He got up from the bed slowly, his muscles aching and his stomach making a few sickening turns.

"I'll get off your back, then," the ranger said. "Been using 'get out there and get over it' as a medicine since I was a child."

"Good, then," the woman said, making it clear she didn't really care either way, "stay well hydrated and always in sight of a toilet."

The ranger didn't really feel like asking about that one and just nodded, muttering his thanks and leaving the infirmary.

The Sun almost blinded him as he stepped out into the yard behind the Crimson Caravans office in his boxers and t-shirt, and it took a moment for him to gather his wits. The courtyard was full of people, Crimson Caravan guards who weren't out on a caravan run right now, which pretty much meant all of them, and the men and women sat around playing cards and drinking while Demetre was paying them from his reserves so he'd have enough firepower if someone decided to take the fight to the company. He decided he didn't really want to spend the day cooped up in the company-fortress and decided to go outside. However, he made a stop at Keri's room.

"Got any spare clothes my size?" the ranger asked plainly once he'd knocked and been let in. "Gonna go outside and figure I don't want to do it in ranger attire like last time."

Keri just nodded and took Tycho to the pre-war building's basement, which served as a storage area. A few strong, locked doors later he found himself in a small room filled to the brim with boxes, clothes, shoes, scarves and other attire inside.

"We got them sorted by size, more or less," Keri informed him. "The smallest are to the right of the door, and they keep getting larger the more you go to the right. _This _stack, I think, should be around your size."

"Thanks," Tycho said plainly. "How much'll it cost me?"

Keri frowned, "nothing. We're not using any of this shit so go right ahead and take it. Though in the interests of the business I suppose I should ask you to return them."

"That's mighty kind of you."

"Mighty kind of me," Keri chuckled and rolled her eyes, then looked back at him. And looked some more. And then her eyes bore into him.

"You alright?"

"Peachy, as you can see by the left side of my face being all in bandages."

"I wasn't talking about that. You _did_ kill Kyle. In cold blood, I am led to believe. Are you _okay_?"

"Yeah, but he was a scumbag and you know it."

"I know and I don't give a fuck about him being dead, it's _you_ I'm concerned about."

"I'll be alright."

"'Will be'? When?"

Tycho shrugged.

"Tell me when you're done, I'll lock this place up,"she asked and left.

Well, she trusts me enough to leave me here in storage alone, Tycho thought. Must be my reputation as a Ranger.

He removed his t-shirt and closed his eyes and enjoyed the coolness of the subterranean air on his skin. Then he opened his eyes and looked at his body. His left arm was wrapped in bandages from shoulder to palm, the fingers, left unbandaged so it wouldn't bother him, were red and marred with burn marks. His entire torso was also wrapped up, though it was the left side and the navel that were burned. Both his hips were also scorched and wrapped up, making him look partially like some sort of an old mummy from the old movie advertisements. He was all shaky and his knees felt weak and he couldn't stand still for a minute, constantly shifting weight from one of his aching legs to another. The bandages and cloth underneath chafed against the sensitive skin as he walked and he decided to check for larger clothes instead. He eventually found some old and dusty black cargo pants and a black t-shirt. He also managed to fish out a faded grey hoodie and a green and red chequered scarf that he wrapped around his mouth and neck. He pulled the hood up and found some comfortable if stinky army boots with laces looking like they'd tear if he pulled on them stronger. The ranger looked down at himself, feeling a bit strange in the baggy wastelander clothes, in addition to feeling strange not being in his usual attire. He felt more vulnerable without his trench-coat somehow, but he was pretty happy with the change. As he walked back up he noticed that the clothes didn't chafe that much, just around his inner thigh and armpits when he moved too much.

He returned the keys to Keri in her room without a word and was headed for the outside when he noticed a familiar face leaving Demetre's office. Loxley, the man from the Thieves' Guild. The man was wearing a smile and strode proudly and happily out of the building without noticing the ranger in the shadows. So Demetre was not above throwing in with the thieves in order to bring peace back to the Hub. The motive was good, but the method... He suddenly found he cared little for it. If it were any other place he probably _would_ care but if it was the Hub... It was not a place where good and right things would last. It was just in its nature to allow shady characters and scoundrels accumulate the most power within. Stepping out into the market, once the representative location of the town, he realized he didn't really care if Demetre _was_ making deals with the guild any more.

The once clean and orderly part of town was now scarred, curved lines of bullet holes running through the walls of the buildings, some burnt and some still intact somehow, the films or sheets of paper covering the windows either torn or ripped off and not mended, the litter rolling around in the street in the morning breeze, small mounds of sand by the bases of the houses, not swept away like usual. And the Maltese Falcon to his right – the building that caught fire several times, had a part of it blown up, and just generally reeked; it wasn't unreasonable to suspect there were at least a couple of dead bodies inside. The chaos that was wrought upon the settlement was a grisly and when the ranger thought about all the terrible things that happened here, all that senseless greed and violence, the unbridled primal chaos that the residents wrought, the thieves guild and their questionable ethics seemed to be as important as an allegiance of an ant in a human gunfight. He was almost ashamed he'd bothered Ian so much about it before, lecturing about morals and questioning Loxley. If the man could help Demetre bring peace to the place, what did it matter if they were thieves? And even if it did, they only stole from the rich... which he'd dismissed as not good enough of an excuse before, but now, suddenly, he could look at the fact and recognize the interesting mixture of good and evil within the concept instead of just calling foul by default.

It felt to him as if something suddenly tore him from the ground and allowed him a look from high above, at the bigger picture, making him realize that the eternal fight of good against bad, which he always professed was what defined humanity, was completely insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He felt like a child who had to grow up suddenly, like a man who was high on drugs and acting the fool all his life and then suddenly sobered up. It wasn't a good feeling, but it somehow felt like progress, so it wasn't entirely bad.

It took Tycho a few moments to notice a cloud of smoke rising from the west, probably the Hub's heights. He sniffled, wiped his watery eyes and started towards the Hightower residence, which he reckoned was on fire again. He passed by a few hubbers who obviously weren't interested in the calamity – it was nothing new anyway – and he was intrigued to see no one was interested in him neither. He was used to his ranger attire turning heads, the reputation preceding him by years and hundreds of miles, and the sensation of slipping under the citizens' radars was new and interesting to him. He looked down at his clothes again and decided he liked the outfit. It felt rather nice wearing something new for a change.

His assumption proved right. The walls and roof of the Hightower place were drenched in flames and the structure itself was chugging out thick black smoke. The centre of the building was a huge black bonfire. This time the place was going to burn down for good.

"Vicious, isn't it?" he heard a man ask. He turned his head and saw the sole other person to actually care about the fire stand a couple of metres behind him, looking at the house. It was the eyes and the gaze that caught his attention first. The man had icy blue eyes that Tycho thought emanated energy and potential, like the man could see deeper into things with these eyes than the ranger could ever hope to and like the man could _change_ things just looking at them. The man, looking to be in his late twenties or early thirties, had dark brown curly hair and a stubble and held himself in a relaxed and pretty calming manner. He seemed pretty much blessed when it came to looks and his presence was calming, as was his soft but low voice. By his clothes, a pair of pre-war pants and a costume jacket, he was obviously a local.

"No one seems to want to put it out this time," Tycho pointed out.

"Why would they?" the man shrugged light-heartedly and approached the ranger, his eyes still on the fire. "The building's been empty ever since Rhonda Hightower went missing. It was more of a symbol, really, of Hightowers' power and the old state of things in the Hub. Guess people don't care about bringing things back to normal anymore. They just want all this chaos to stop, no matter how, and they'd rather worry about _that_ than the state of the house of some dead fat-cat and his missing daughter."

"I suppose nothing's sacred here," Tycho opined, realising he didn't feel disquieted as he realized that. Once again he had to admit the Hub was different from any other settlement he'd seen. Things just worked different in here.

"Well, except greed," he reiterated. "Greed's the same everywhere. Though I've never seen a place where it was so prevalent."

"It's not greed," the stranger objected, finally looking at the ranger with a small smile on his face, "it's insecurity."

"How so?" the ranger was intrigued.

"Well... Life is hard and people want things. They need food and water to survive, and they gather those, and then they start hoarding them. They hoard everything fearing they'll need it when the bad times roll in. When they have enough food, they start hoarding other things. Rich men hoard caps afraid that one day things will go bad and they'll lose a lot of them. The more you have now, the more you're most likely to have after some bad thing happens. It's like a shield. And people always hoard things because they're afraid life is gonna take them away. And the more you have the more has to be taken away from you until you've got nothing."

Tycho nodded and looked back to the fire again.

"That's true. But I suppose you just described greed in other words."

"I did. But there's a point to it. It's not like greedy people are evil. They're just scared. So maybe one shouldn't judge them too harshly. The Hightowers' old house is of use to no one so they let it burn. It won't sate their insecurities and is thus useless. It serves no purpose anyway."

That sounded a lot like making excuses to the ranger, like how the outlaws he'd killed out east would claim they had a drop of righteousness right before the end. He realized that some time ago, hearing talks like that would set his alarm bells ringing, telling him the person talking was probably of low moral standing, but now these bells were quiet.

"It's understandable but not a very good excuse," the ranger opined. The youth smiled.

"Yes. That's why change is needed. They say that people before the War were all peaceful and didn't know greed until they started running out of resources, and that led to the Great War itself. I reckon if we create peace and prosperity here in the Hub, _true _peace and prosperity, people wouldn't be so insecure any more."

The ranger looked the youth up and down.

"You look familiar. Weren't you in Hightower's society or something?"

"The Hub Society of Citizens. Yeah, I was with them, sort of. Did some work for them from time to time. You were there too?" the man asked, trying to take a good look at the ranger, though failing because of the bandaging and the scarf.

"I've spoken with the woman, and there were a few of you guys around," Tycho lied, remembering how he met her the last time after he'd helped clear another satellite farm of raiders. It wasn't a lie, he _did _speak with the woman and there _were_ a few other mercenaries working for the society present.

He just lied, he realised.

He shifted his weight on his other leg and sniffled. He had bigger problems than that right now.

"The way speak about the Society makes it sound like you didn't believe in their cause."

"I believed I their cause, but things have changed, and in the end it proved to be ineffective. Or not enough. It did some good, but then things changed to level it couldn't do anything anymore, even if Rhonda was still around.

"You think the Society was making a change?" Tycho asked.

"I think so" the man looked at the burning house and adopted of a melancholy expression, "But then again, it all fell apart so easily. I think it's just a matter of human nature. Like I said, it wouldn't be a problem if we lived way before the war, but these days... there's raiders, mutants, sandstorms that can kill you if you can't find a shelter, radiation and all the sickness, greedy people... it's hard." He looked the ranger in the eye. "It might sound like justifying the evil but I don't see how it could be any different at this day and age, when the world is so hostile to human beings."

"It can be," the ranger opined, "but not here. There's something about this place... I've seen people get over greed and start getting along in many other settlements. I figure if you want a good life you'd have to move somewhere else."

The man smiled and shook his head.

"No, thank you, I was born here and I will die here, and try and do something useful in-between."

The ranger fell silent.

"And just how do you hope to make a change?" he asked quietly.

The man shrugged nonchalantly.

"One small step at a time."

He looked at the setting sun, and said, "gotta run now, though. Nice talking to you mister..."

"John," the ranger lied automatically.

"John. I'm Elliot. See you."

The man took off and the ranger stayed, looking at the fire and thinking. It was only when he was on his way back to Crimson Caravans that he looked around at the few hubbers that could be seen and realized that the man he was talking with had a much firmer grasp on that bigger picture that Tycho was just starting to see. Somehow he could look at things and see them differently, maybe even see them true. He thought about his past. He'd wandered from town to town bringing justice to each one. Go in, separate the good guys from the bad guys, destroy the bad guys, nourish the good guys with well-memorized speeches and move on. Every time he came to a new town he would look for the black and the white of things, and he remembered the old saying, that a person can find anything if they look hard enough. And that's all he did all his life, look for black and white, refusing to believe there was anything else, when there actually was. Right now he felt like he was looking at the world as if it was the first time he was seeing it. He should've seen some of what he was seeing now earlier. Every town he came and brought law to would sooner or later suffer a relapse; Tycho lied to the young man on that account, he realized, and didn't even notice himself: maybe he's been lying to himself about it too. He always thought it was just the way it was, the dynamics of good and bad, but it actually wasn't. That was that something else he hadn't yet understood.

He returned to the caravan office and collected his armour and trench coat from where he left them by one of the tents in the yard out back. He looked at the items for a while. They looked like motley to him. He'd been parading around in these playing the fool all his life. He sighed, found his backpack and tucked the items away. He found somebody's pack of cigarettes nearby and took one, sitting down on the ground, leaning back against the wall and looking at Tabitha torture her protégés with gun maintenance lessons. Only she could turn it into a form of torture.

"Come on, Trash, look at that spring! Does it seem _right_ to you, garbage? You look me in the eye and tell me you want _this _piece of shit in your gun when you're aiming at a super-_fucking_-mutant, I fucking _dare_ you! Melvin, stop your sniggering! If you were a man and not a dickless sack of ass-puss you would've _informed_ miss Trash of the fucking _defect_ in her fucking _gun_! She's the one who's going to help you fend off the baddies out there, if _her_ gun is shit, chances are _your_ life is about get shit too!"

The woman barely had to stop for breath.

"And that's another thing you green-ass dykes and faggots ought to remember, you're going to be Crimson-_fucking_-Caravan guards, not some pussy-ass Water Merchant outhouse guards! You don't work as a team out there and you're going down faster than a bottle of scotch in Junktown! I don't give a _fuck_ whether the man beside you is a tribal, a slaver or a motherfucking ghoul, if you're both in Crimson you respect them, you don't get into fights about silly superstitions and who's bad or good or who could kick more ass, and you have. Their. Mother. Fucking. _Back_. Is that understood?"

The new-bloods muttered a scared 'yes, ma'am' and Tabitha went on about how a proper Crimson Caravans employee walks and talks and thinks and lives but Tycho had already smoked his cigarette and headed inside by then. He thought about stopping by Keri's and telling her he'd keep that outfit, getting that thing straightened out and giving her caps if need be, but his whole body was tired from the walk and his stomach was making sickening twists and he decided not to bother. Instead, he marched into Demetre's office and sat himself down on a chair in front of the man's table.

"I want to sign up," the man stated, making the other bulge his eyes in suprise.

"What... really? Well..." it took Demetre a brief moment to gather his calm businesslike demeanour, "it would certainly be nice to have someone... as skilled as you are with us. But I must ask if you really think you're ready."

"I've had worse," Tycho dismissed the doubt. "It takes a lot more than a fire to keep a Nevada Ranger down."

Demetre looked him up and down, in doubt. It suddenly dawned on Tycho that the man wasn't concerned about his physical health as much as his mental health after the whole incident with Kyle. Shit, the ranger cursed in his head, the first thing I did right and now everyone thinks I'm crazy for it. He'll probably need to lie through that one.

He realized, once again in the face of lying, that he didn't care. It was how things worked here. It was the only way for him to move forward since every two-bit fucker in town thinks they know what he's all about, and right now it happens to be 'cold-blooded murder'.

He supposed he could've just moved on, travelled to another town, or simply back east, but he decided that this was the best course of action. All his life he'd been wandering alone, looking at things the way he was taught to, with no companion beside him to ever cause a spark of doubt in his mind. If he headed out alone again he would be lost, having felt the way he felt here, and if he really wanted to understand this world before his age caught up to him he had to go out there with someone else and learn about the world from them, by listening to their opinions, weighing them and deciding. By having someone around who will allow him to look at things from another angle than what he's used to. If he has to lie to achive that, then he will.

"I believe it would be best for me if I went out with a caravan, assuming any would be leaving soon," Tycho finally said. "Things have been crazy here recently and I think I need a break, is all. Getting too tired and caught up in things here to think straight," he forced a chuckle. "That's how we rangers let off steam. Hiking," he smiled.

Demetre looked Tycho in the eyes, deliberating, but he seemed more placated now. Probably a good thing to remind him of the rangers and make him consider Tycho as someone who could be used in his fight for 'peace' later on if proper action is taken now. The man nodded solemnly and produced a sheet of paper and a pen from a desk drawer.

"Fill this out and you're good to go. We were actually thinking of leaving tomorrow, a big caravan, and I think we could use someone like you."

Tycho nodded while filling out a brief form that asked very general questions about him, like name, age, birthplace, and previous jobs.

"It'll be a two-wagon caravan," Demetre continued, "to make up for our lack of business recently. We're actually thinking about sending ten to twelve people along on this on, as crazy as it sounds. An armed driver for both of the wagons, three lookouts – two front and one rear – and the rest guarding the wagons. I know it seems like much, but there might be super mutants out there, and a two-wagon caravan is that much more alluring to raiders."

"The route?" Tycho asked, pushing the filled-out form to Demetre.

"Junktown, Shady Sands, the Brotherhood, Necropolis, and then back to the Hub. The whole circle. We'll send someone good at haggling along and try to buy and sell in each location. The time is great for it as there have been very few caravans that left these past few weeks."

"We leave tomorrow morning?"

"Yes," Demetre confirmed, looking through the form Tycho filled out. "Uh... you have to write down your last name too, right here," he returned the paper to the ranger.

"I ain't got one."

"Wastelanders usually don't," Demetre informed them, "but those are the rules, stupid as they might be. We just need to keep track of who's working for who. Most just come up with a surname on the spot, it doesn't even matter. Like their hometown, dad's name, even a nickname. Or something random. Like 'Paul John' or 'Jenny Kicker'."

Tycho nodded and took the pen, about to write down the first thing that came to mind, 'Irwin', but he stopped himself at the last moment deciding it would not do him any favours; it would just make Demetre more uneasy. He just put down 'Grey' instead.

He actually felt better upon leaving the office and even bought some booze and cigarettes from a small store in the entrance hall of the company, set up during the unrest to keep the caravaners safe and easy. He unscrewed the bottle and lit the cigarette in the old woman's garden which was now absent of Tabitha's victims, further away from the other celebrating Crimson folk.

Dogmeat approached the ranger, its tongue wagging and his walk somewhat slower and more sluggish than before.

"Just had dinner?" Tycho asked the dog aloud. "Keri's been taking good care of you, then?"

He petted the dog and it sat down beside him, yawning and stretching, his head on Tycho's legs. The man sniffled and started scratching the dog under the ear while smoking and admiring the pink and red evening sky.

"You know, your master's done a bad thing, Dogmeat," he said quietly, his eyes on the sky. "He fucked the place up and now he's peaceful back in his home."

The man took a large gulp of the booze and winced as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat and settled in his stomach like a ticking bomb.

"I suppose I could say I'm a better person 'cause I fucked up here too but I'm sticking by it... I think," he frowned, "but you know, the one thing you got going for you is that you don't give a fuck about this stuff. Can't. What I wouldn't give up for that."

* * *

><p>The Hub<p>

2161-04-10 11:42 AM

She woke up almost at noon, having had one too many the day before. One look out the window told her it was going to be one of those rare cool days: the sky was cloudy and the air was cooler than usual, not to say that it wasn't hot. She leaned over the windowsill and took a deep breath; it didn't smell like rain. Oh well.

There were seven other mercenaries cramped up in the same room as Tabitha each night, but none were present at the moment. Probably out drinking, not like she could blame them: what else was there to do?

She pulled away from the window and yawned and stretched. Her mind was foggy so early and after so many shots last night and the first thing she did after stretching was sigh deeply and rub her forehead with her fingers. What was she going to do today? Whip some new recruits some more? Spend the whole time drinking?

Sometimes she would question her decision to come here, to the Hub. The monotony of a routine really got to her after a while, after the elation of having finally reached the destination she'd dreamt of for so long had worn off, and she would often find herself wishing another deathclaw would wander into the town, giving her a clear and challenging task she could focus upon instead of doing the same mindless thing all over again. Or maybe she just felt this way because there were no caravans going out...

'Shit!' she almost jumped up to the ceiling, a smile blooming on her face. A big caravan is heading out tomorrow and she still has stuff to sort out! That's not a mindless task, that is actually interesting!

Right, she thought as she put on her trademark trench-coat and no-nonsense persona, time to do ne of the things that I do best: bring together a fucking caravan. She wasn't a hundred percent sure what some of the people Demetre picked for this run were good at, seeing as how most of them never were Tabitha's trainees at any point in time, and she _was _still considered the crass anti-social bitch. But her not knowing these people was a good sign, it meant that the caravan will be made up of mostly experienced people instead of trainees. Can't be any other way: Keri's on it too.

She fished out a duffel bag from underneath her bed, opened it, and looked through the weapons she had acquired and stockpiled throughout her journeys. She was best when firing her combat shotgun, but depending on the skill-sets of the rest of her colleagues she might have to take up another role. She had an old Colt Rangemaster hunting rifle that should still shoot straight. It was one of the oldest weapons she still had, its scope long since broken off in a scuffle. A reminder of the days she preferred dealing with trouble from afar. Then there was her AK-112 assault rifle, in a pretty good condition. Probably the best choice, versatile. Her shotgun is useful at short range, and she might have to reconsider if the other people signed up were proficient at such weapons as well. There were some hand-to-hand weapons as well: ancient spiked knuckles, a Bowie knife, some plated gloves, a couple of tomahawks and a powder bag. At the very bottom of the bag was a 10mm SMG. Tabitha took it out of the bag and looked it over. Good condition, a fine alternative to a shotgun, another short-range gun. This one's Ian's, she then realized. She took it off of him before they buried him in Necropolis. Huh, the man did take care of his weapons, she could find nothing even slightly wrong with it. She put it back with the rest of the guns and left the room looking for the people on her list of caravaners.

The first person down her list she already knew as well as one possibly could. Morgan Clayton, a plump middle-aged hubber, an introverted outcast from a good family. A really sour mutfruit that one, but a wizard with the brahmin and a shrewd trader. Virtually irreplaceable in this sort of mission. She marked 'shotgun' next to her name, as this was the weapon of choice of all the cart drivers.

Steven and Sophia were the next people on her list, and she went to the former for any information regarding their skills and what they're carrying. She found the blonde in the reception area, reading some ancient comic book and downing whiskeys.

"If you're going with us on this run I need to know what you're good at," she stated simply. Steven just shrugged.

"I carry an AK-112 and a Ripper. I'm good at anything except sharpshooting."

"Any good at scouting? We're short on scouts."

"I guess," he shrugged, "I'm the lookout when we're out there, really, despite the automatic rifle."

"You're hired, then. And Sophia?"

"Used to have a shotgun but now she's got that plasma pistol to play with. It's... better to put her on the defence."

A devilish grin spread on the woman's face.

"Is it that you don't think much of her skills or that you don't want her to get hurt?"

Both answers were incriminating. She's so close to making the man react in some way for the first time!

"The former," he replied evenly. "She's the brains in our duo."

"Oh," Tabitha's shoulders slacked in disappointment. "Makes sense," she admitted.

"Yep."

She was about to turn around when she decided to be out with it.

"Do you think _not_ being a stoic asshole would automatically give you the plague or something?"

"Do you think I am interested in an effort that would reward everyone around me at my own expense? Also, do you think _not_ being an uncouth bitch would give you the plague or something?"

"Maybe you'll find it fun!"

"Tried. Didn't."

She gave her best nonchalant shrug.

"At least you're not grating that way, and I think you'll find yourself plenty of work in this particular sphere like that. Which is why _I_ prefer being the 'uncouth bitch'. Professional."

"Thanks," Steven said, frowning and unsure of her intentions.

Tabitha moved on, thinking briefly about how she often thought along the same lines as he apparently was. It looked like they were quite similar. In that case, she was reassured that she looked very professional and felt a tinge of fear regarding her personal life.

'Nah,' she waved the thought away, 'I'm witty and a fun drinker, especially both at the same time.'

Crossing out herself, Keri and Charlie she found herself looking for Elliot Fresno. She remembered he was the good-looking guy with the curly hair and the introspective expression. The self-professed gun-slinger-slash-intellectual. She couldn't find him but seemed to recall he was a decent sharpshooter. Well, if he had any objections he would only have himself to blame for not being at work during work hours, especially when work was also his home.

She soon found herself in the colourful company of the Butterfield brothers. The older brother, Lee, commonly known as 'Swinger' was sparring with Charlie in the yard again, with Keri, Sophia and his younger brother as an audience.

Swinger was a bald brahmin of a man and while Charlie wasn't a scrawny street urchin himself the fight didn't seem fair due to Lee's sheer size. Still, Charlie was able to parry most of the man's blows due to being more agile.

"Who do you think is going to win?" She heard Sophia ask Keri.

"Swinger, unless Charlie is lucky," she replied, admiring the battle.

"What do you mean?"

"Just look at them. Lee has a larger frame and more powerful punches but Charlie has superior footwork and precision. He makes an attack less frequently but he punches where it _really_ hurts: Swinger's so strong trying to block him is foolish. Charlie will win in a drawn-out battle unless one of Swinger's attacks lands."

"Huh," the vault dweller frowned at looked at the two men, "I couldn't tell. You brawl, then?"

"A little. I'm pretty shit though," she laughed. "Dad wouldn't let me brawl so I'm really bad. I've seen others fight countless times, though."

"Must suck to just watch."

"Meh," she shrugged, "I don't cry about it," she said dismissively. That much was true.

Charlie was indeed jumping around in order to avoid Swinger, but his back was facing the wall and the larger man was pressing on. It seemed like he was running out space to fight. At least, it would look like it for someone who hadn't seen the two fight a million times.

"Slow down!" Mike suddenly called out to his brother. "Pin him to the wall and he'll slip away when you think you're winning."

Charlie cast the man the briefest of glances. Indeed, that was his plan. Mike wasn't as physically capable as his brother – that much was obvious from his small frame – but he was the closest thing to a learnt man Crimson Caravan had. Tabitha recalled he had at least basic knowledge in almost everything, but unlike the other learnt men, the sons and daughters of the Hub's rich, he never flaunted it. Instead he would just offer some advice or an observation in passing from time to time, almost an unnoticeable presence.

"Mike, you're on the caravan," she informed him. "Medic. You got a rifle, I see," she said, pointing at the hunting rifle strapped on his back, "I trust you know how to use it?"

"He does," Keri assured.

"Any good at scouting?"

"I'm afraid not," Mike said in an apologetic manner, smiling and slightly bowing his head. All sunshine and flowers in his soft speech, this man. Tabitha wrinkled her nose. The man had soft features and soft blue eyes. He looked almost like a woman and carried himself like a businessman. She didn't like his type. Still he was a good medic, a decent sharpshooter, apparently, and the only one who can give his dumb brother any direction. And they'll need Swinger and the ease with which the strong man could use the really big weapons they'd collected from the mutants if they want to survive an encounter with the monsters.

Tabitha noticed Charlie starting to carefully push his opponent further from the wall, Lee going into defence as his brother advised, except he didn't quite realize that the situation had changed another course of action was called for. Charlie was going to use this to his advantage. He jabbed high with his right hand and immediately low with his left, scoring a weaker, left-handed punch in the opponent's stomach.

"Attack!" Mike ordered quietly and his brother took the advice immediately and started bombarding his opponent while he was staggering back.

"Don't speed up!" Mike advised again, ruining Charlie's biggest chance. The ginger-haired man concentrated on his feet, trying to get Swinger angry and evading his blows at the same time by dancing around the man.

"Don't speed up!" Mike repeated his advice and the bald man kept his attacks on the same speed and frequency. Charlie was the one attacking now, the one doing the bigger part of the job while Swinger gets to conserve strength on the defence.

"Um, can I ask a favour?" Sophia suddenly asked Keri.

"You can always ask."

"So we're going on this caravan run with you guys through these settlements... Could you tell me about the trade in the region? I really want to get to know the place."

Tabitha noticed Keri had to put in an effort to supress a smile. As the owner's daughter she had a certain decorum to maintain, like not showing joy of someone getting on the level with her and asking to 'hang out', in a way. Tabitha didn't think much of Sophia, the woman was squeamish and naïve, but she was grateful for her doing this for her friend.

"Yeah, sure," Keri shrugged, seemingly uncaring. "No problem."

The other woman smiled warmly, "thanks. And, uh... I'm sorry for being such a bother."

"It's okay," Keri smiled slightly, "most mercs here don't know this shit, and it's good that you want to learn."

Distracted by the interchange Tabitha didn't really see the punch, only heard it. She turned her head and saw Charlie fall on the sandy ground while Swinger brought his arms back in a defensive position, then looked at Charlie lying there for a few seconds, ready to defend himself, before realizing there would be no attack as the man was down and he'd won.

"So he didn't get lucky, then," Sophia deducted. "Bummer."

'Bullshit,' Tabitha thought as she looked at Mike smirking faintly. Charlie has a good chance against Swinger one on one, but with his brother there to put a semblance of intelligence into his fighting Charlie lost his greatest advantage, beside agility.

"You two," Tabitha stepped up and addressed the fighters as Lee helped a dazed Charlie up, "we're loading up two of Crimson's M60s into the wagons. If we're against super mutants and shit hits the fan – which is one and the same – you draw them and tear the fuckers apart before they tear _us_ apart, got it?"

The two men nodded.

"Lee, what gun do you use in a fight?"

"He uses an AK-112," she heard Mike reply behind her.

"Are you any good at scouting, _Lee_?"

"No," she heard Mike reply in his brother's stead again, only more quiet this time.

Charlie looked at her, frowning disapprovingly.

"We both need to stay by the carts. Close to the guns," he pointed out. "Neither of us can be look-outs."

"A girl can dream, can't she?" She sighed. "Just be ready at 0600, y'all. I have to go figure this shit out."

She turned around, cast a disapproving glance at Mike and returned to the building. She had no idea why she couldn't stand the man. Then again, she didn't care much. She was in a position where she could be a bitch about whatever she wanted.

She returned to her empty room and started planning out who would take what position and where they would have to be. But she lacked a damn scout. She didn't really enjoy the duty, but it was looking like she would have to be the third ranger beside Steven and Fresno.

She was proven wrong when she heard a knock on the door and Demetre came in, bearing news.

"Tycho signed up with Crimson. He wants to be on the caravan and I said yes."

Tabitha frowned and rapped her fingers on the desk. Well _that_ was a sign that maybe at least something she'd said in their usual arguments started to sink in, but given his current state and the whole Kyle affair she was bothered there could be something bad behind the decision.

"I'll keep an eye on him," she responded. "And it's good, I have my third scout, then."

"Do you..." Demetre shuffled his feet, "have any idea what... caused this decision?"

Tabitha sighed. As much as their heads clashed she was reluctant to say anything bad about the ranger.

"I have a few theories," she replied neutrally. "Nothing bad, if you're concerned about that. I'll talk to him, the road will be good for him," she looked up at the man. "He's old, Demetre, and he's been a ranger all of his long life. He's not bound to change."

"So you think he killed that young man for all the right reasons?"

"I do... Though it's uncharacteristic of him. But I think he really did."

Demetre nodded, seemingly satisfied. He probably knew as much about Kyle and his ways as she did.

"He'll be a wonderful addition," Demetre said, "but do keep an eye on him."

"You got it, boss," she replied as Demetre left.

She spent most of the rest of the day overseeing the loading of stuff into the wagons, drilling new-bloods and drinking and playing cards with Steven in the reception, half of her mind on how to get a talk going with Tycho as she'd promised – the man _had_ changed after Irwin and she wasn't sure how soon he was going to bounce back – and the other half on Steven. He had a terrific poker face and she found she didn't mind the company of the quiet man who seemed to have forgotten her earlier remark. She really hoped they would get to keep him, after he's done with the mutant business.

Scratch that, she'd follow him into the Brotherhood in a heartbeat. Not because she was curious about the organization or because he was someone you'd follow into battle without a second thought– quite the contrary – but because he was on a mission – he was doing something, and she really felt like she needed something like a long, complicated task to make things more interesting. She found herself envying the man.

She returned to her room in the evening and found it empty save for Charlie, lying on his bed, nursing his left eye with a wet rag and drinking whisky from the bottle.

"I assume you feel better now that your brains are scrambled?" she bit as she entered. She received a smirk in response.

"You gotta know pain in order to know pleasure."

"I'd stick with something milder than being head-butted by a charging brahmin."

She sat down on her bed and drew her shotgun, giving it another once-over before the mission.

"I take it your guns are squeaky clean and ready to roll?"

"Always," he gave her a thumbs up.

She shrugged non-committally and got on with her cleaning of the weapon.

There was a long silence before Charlie spoke up out of the blue.

"What do you have against Mike?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I just don't like him. His manner. And I doubt you do since he's the reason you're going to have that _attractive_ shiner for the next week."

Charlie shrugged.

"It sucks but it's part of the game. And I have nothing against it. I got to practise fighting and they got to practice teamwork."

"I thought you hated close-quarters."

"Yes, and that's _precisely_ what's going to kill me unless I get better at it. You gotta mend the holes in your bucket and all that stuff."

Tabitha nodded. It made sense. As carefree as Charlie could be, even to the point of being irritating, she already knew he had a very clear head about most things. She wrote the rest off as one of his unrelated quirks.

"Keri will be in the caravan but you'll still be effectively running it. You need to look at Mike with a clear head, not just write him off because you don't like him."

"I've handled people I wanted to literally punch in the face before," she shot back, slightly irritated. "I know how to do my job."

"Okay, okay," Charlie raised his hands as a sign of peace. "Don't see how he got your knickers in such a twist, though. Huh, I guess it's a personal preference."

Tabitha looked at him.

"Was he the one who told you to put a wet towel on your eye?"

"No. Well, maybe, the first time I got a shiner during practice with his brother. Why?"

"You gotta get a bucket of cold water and put the towel in it again from time to time."

"It's still a bit wet," Charlie replied.

Tabitha flinched.

"The hell? You think it's water that's healing your shiner? It's the _cold_! You have to keep it fresh and _cold_."

Charlie removed the towel and looked at it in confusion.

"Oh."

He stood up and left the room as Tabitha muttered 'idiot' under her breath.

She looked up at him again when he got back with a bucket half-filled with cold water.

"Unbelievable," she said. "If that's what Mike prescribed you for your shiner... There just aren't any decent doctors around these days."

"I don't see _you_ going around fixing broken limbs and removing shiners, oh brilliant physician," he teased.

"I'm not a good physician. I've just seen how a good one works, and it's so above and beyond everything else it puts even Lara to shame. Simple things, but effective. Not to mention having proper tools and taking care of them right."

"That Matthew guy, I assume?"

"Yeah. The dude stitched his leg while squeezed between two rocks in a cave with a deathclaw thrashing about below. Disinfected it and everything, if you even know what it means."

"I _do_, for your information," Charlie shook his head. "The wasteland's a shitty place, no use in getting used to decent doctors."

"That's no excuse!" she retorted.

Charlie sighed and went quiet. Tabitha tried to think some other ways Matthew did things better than other physicians, only now realizing she should've paid more attention for her own benefit. However, her mind soon started wandering. To their first meeting, for some reason. The man didn't know how to treat her then, but that was understandable seeing as how he was fresh from a vault, but he still was an immense help in Shady Sands after the attack.

He hated it though, she remembered – being the vault's physician. He told them once that doctors barely had anything to do in the vault. She wondered if that changed. Maybe his brief foray into the surface world made him find himself antsy when he came back? Well, he'd be here by now if it had. She couldn't understand it, though. She was about ready to crawl out of her own skin from boredom in the Hub, how could he stand being locked up in underground tunnels with a dull job? She sighed. Maybe he'll see sense.

She finished cleaning her weapon, looked at the floor and sighed, feeling mellow all of a sudden.

She fished out her duffel bag and sifted through it, taking Ian's old SMG from it. She held it in her right hand and brushed the fingers of the other hand along the barrel. Squeaky clean, even all this time after his death. He _was_ good at looking ahead and doing things so they would last. She thought about his promise to settle down in a farm with her somewhere down the line and smiled a sad smile.

"Miss him?" Charlie asked quietly. She looked up at him and then immediately down, slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah," she murmured hoarsely, putting the thing back in the bag. She then frowned and looked up at Charlie to find him frowning at the bottom of the bunk above him, in thought. She felt uneasy all of a sudden. It was as if her missing her ex-boyfriend had a role in something he was trying to figure out.

'Hell no,' she thought as she realized he might be meditating whether or not to start coming on to her. He was, after all, known far and wide as a womaniser.

"I'll get some shut-eye," she dead-panned, pushing the duffel back under the bed. "Early start the next morning. I suggest you do the same."

"Mhm," he murmured and threw her a look. Like he was feeling pity. Damn, he was _really_ getting into her, and not in the standard one-night-stand womaniser way.

She thought about it as she wrapped herself inside the sheets, whether she would fuck Charlie. She sighed, feeling even more mellow than before. Probably yes, a small voice inside her head said. She cursed under her breath. The smallest of head-voices were most often right on the money.


	29. Draw, Part Two

The Hub

2161-04-11 05:55 AM

Tabitha felt a strange kind of glee as the mercenaries slowly approached the ready-to-leave caravan at the edge of the Hub early that morning. There were two carts in the caravan, each drawn by a Brahmin, and the second one was tied to the back of the first wagon, making it so that they only needed the one driver – Morgan, who sat in in her place in front of the first wagon reading something. She was wearing linen pants and shirt with a leather jacket over it, Tabitha noted, in addition to her straw hat and red-tinted plastic shades. She would not count as a combatant, the woman realized, but the others filing in looked slightly more like business.

Tycho was the first to arrive alongside that Elliot guy Tabitha failed to find yesterday. The ranger, Tabitha noted with concern, had ditched his trench-coat and now wore his kevlar west under a large grey hoodie. Elliot, in the meantime, wore greenish-brown leather armour that most of the Crimson employees wore, along with a chequered scarf, and a grey baseball cap. From what she could make out of their conversation as they approached, Tabitha learnt that they actually met yesterday, and the ranger had apparently lied about his identity, making him now apologise awkwardly while the other man grinned, obviously amused. From what she knew about Elliot Fresno, he was a good-natured guy prone to ramble about justice and equality. He was also a member of that society Rhonda had going. They were going to be thick as thieves, Tabitha realized, and suddenly felt relieved that it was Fresno that was to keep Tycho company. Fresno was a decent man.

Coming in behind them were Keri, Charlie and the Butterfield brothers. Keri, adorned in a suit of combat armour her father bought for her protection, walked ahead awkwardly, flanked by Swinger and Charlie, with Mike walking besides his brother. Despite the fact that the three men wore leather armour while she was in the superior composite suit, they looked like they were her bodyguards, which was actually pretty true. Anything happens to Keri, and they all might as well not come back. Tabitha grinned, successfully teasing Keri who she knew found this whole situation awkward.

Steven and Sophia came in last, the former in leather armour and the latter in combat armour, though Tabitha noted that they have switched bracers and boots. She'd put Steven on look-out duty and was now questioning her decision somewhat. Those two went through a lot of shit together and there was no doubt in her mind that they must've worked splendidly in a team, despite what Steven had to say about her. But, then again, she made her call and she _did_ need more look-outs so it looked like she would maybe get a chance to see how Sophia handled herself in combat first-hand.

The guards got in their positions quietly and the caravan slowly started moving forward. She could feel the Hub behind her, the large settlement seemingly emanating life and security. On the horizon, she thought she could see Junktown, past that – Shady Sands, then the Brotherhood and Necropolis to the West. A clear route. Clear objectives. Clear course of action. The caravan left the Hub and Tabitha suddenly felt like she could breathe again.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-04-15 11:14 AM

They lost a day.

It looked like they would when late in the morning wind started picking up and the sand came to life, covering the ground in strands of mist, promising a sandstorm. Charlie sighed. Unless he was in a town with decent window coverings, sandstorms were a bitch. Then Tycho, who had been scouting ahead, returned to the wagons in the early afternoon and simply murmured 'mantises', making the whole procession stop at once.

"How many?" Keri asked.

"A mother swarm," the ranger replied impassively as she swore and Elliot ran up to the caravan.

"You already know," he simply stated and smiled.

Upon Sophia's prompting Keri explained how swarms moved while fishing for a map in her packpack.

California, and Nevada for all anyone could tell, was a breeding ground for these things. They were constantly moving, pretty much in circles, eating everything they came across. There were a few known spots where they would breed scattered around, and they'd return to a spot once every few years, lay the eggs, hatch them, and move on. So once every couple of years a mother swarm would blow by the wasteland like a sandstorm, leaving nothing behind them. The locals had their usual breeding spots mapped out and Keri soon found they were right beside one.

It was to the west and a bit north and since these bugs were all migrating east it was the wisest decision to just skirt west around their den and stay out of the swarm's path. By the time they were a good distance away from the swarm it was already time to set up camp. In this particular situation Tycho and Elliot, who scouted ahead, switched places with Steven who usually scouted behind so they could take out any mantises that decided to choose another direction for their migration.

When the third bout of distant gunfire seized behind them with an all-clear signal, Steven returned to the caravan informing them that he found a place they could stay the night. Charlie felt his spirits soar. He would make _everyone_ in the world suffer if he had to spend the storm on the ground underneath a blanket.

The caravaners rarely mapped shelters that were away from the beaten track so the white wooden church was a true blessing. It stood on a hill overlooking a small dilapidated town that was half-buried in sand. The building itself had two stories upon which a tilted roof sat, and a single-story extension behind it, probably for the pastor and his family.

Steven had stopped in the small town. They saw why as they approached him: there were a couple of small rad-scorpions milling around the ascent to the shelter. The wind picked up, the sand pelting their knees.

"No better time than right now," Charlie pointed out impatiently.

"Right," Tabitha replied. "Since you volunteered, you Mike and Lee will go in. Tycho, Elliot!" she addressed the scouts who caught up with them. "You will guard the flanks outside. We'll make ourselves cosy in here. Hurry the fuck up."

Charlie and the two brothers started ahead.

"Remember," he heard Mike caution Lee quietly, "we're going to shoot the scorpions that are outside, then wait for other scorpions to come out of the church, shoot them as they come and then head inside when no more come."

Lee nodded several times, his brow furrowed as if he was trying to memorize the instructions.

The plan was going well, with their first shots drawing out half a dozen more arachnids, and even more coming from the wasteland on both sides. Swinger immediately directed his fire at one on his right that he had a clear shot at.

"Lee!" Mike exclaimed unexpectedly sharply. "Let Tycho and Elliot deal with them, concentrate on those ahead of us!"

Swinger grunted in discontent and resumed gunning down the scorpions filing out of the building. The bugs had tough carapaces and they needed as much fire-power as was available in order to deal with.

The double door to the church, opened when the scorpions went through it, was almost shut by the wind. Charlie approached it, shouldered his rifle, and half-crouched, getting into an appropriate position for fighting radscorpions in close quarters. He motioned for one of the brothers to open the door for him and, not unexpectedly, it was Mike who read the head motion and opened it. The mercenary took a glance inside and then stepped in.

The interior of the church was quite small. There were only seven rows of pews, situated in front of a humble altar. The pews were ground to pieces by the scorpions milling about and the ginger-haired man made his way inside slowly, cautious for the small scorpion hatchlings that could be difficult to see among the shredded wood. He heard Mike's soft footsteps behind him a moment later, and then Swinger's heavy ones.

"If you see any little ones, stomp instead of shooting," the smaller brother advised in a hushed whisper.

There was a door to the right of the altar and Charlie approached it with his ears perked up. The scorpion nest must be just beyond.

"Charlie will open the door and you'll blast anything that comes out," Mike explained as Charlie nodded, throwing the man a thankful look.

As soon as the door was swung open Lee's gun went off and Mike cursed. A couple dozen baby scorpions spilled out into the main hall.

Lee didn't stop firing and Charlie thought there was an expression of terror on Mike's face as he glanced by, stepping back to avoid the scorpions. He made it past the altar beck-pedalling when Swinger started stomping on the small bugs that were at his feet, firing his AK-112 automatic rifle at the same time, his brother joining him. A decent-sized scorpion shuffled out the door a moment later, his face already loaded with lead, a yellowish viscous liquid dripping on the floor. It made it halfway to the brothers before it was killed, and at the same moment another, healthy one emerged from out back.

There were no small scorpions attacking Charlie at that moment so he attempted to aid his comrades by shooting the scorpion in the side, but it barely gave the creature pause.

Swinger's weapon emitted a series of dry clicks the moment the scorpion was right in front of him. With Mike's gun empty a second later, Lee lunged forward the same time the scorpion stabbed his tail at the place his head was a moment ago. The stock of Swinger's gun impacted with the creature's face with a dry crack and the arachnid winced. Charlie had by then made his way to the man's side and reloaded, and he emptied his clip at the creature's face while standing right beside the big man, much closer to danger than he liked, killing it.

It took a few more moments for them to stomp out, literally, the last of the small ones, and Lee immediately checked his shins for bite-marks, but all but two, apparently, have been stopped by his leather armour.

Charlie glanced at the wounds and then at the door.

"Move on?"

Mike nodded.

"The scratches won't slow _him_ down."

Charlie took point again in his close-quarters stance, turning on the flash-light taped to his gun in the small corridors. Sure enough, there were more of the small ones to stomp out, and then he almost bricked it when a grown scorpion jumped out from around the corner, making the man dive into a small bedroom while the brothers pelted it with bullets.

Their bullets, however, did not manage to kill it before it followed Charlie into the room and out of their sight.

"Shit shit shit shit shit shit," Charlie swore under his breath as he pressed the trigger and shot at the scorpion, his back pinned to the corner of the room. The creature made it halfway through the room and had not died, only slowed down.

"Shit shit shit shit," Charlie swore again as the scorpion was almost upon him, its tail rising, preparing to attack.

In a flash, Swinger was in the room and grabbed the tail with his bare hands, foiling the creature's attack. Charlie ran out of bullets but the creature had forgotten him, trying to turn around and take care of the bulky annoyance gripping his tail.

At that moment, Charlie froze, realizing he had no idea what to do. He started reloading in hopes he would get a clear shot.

"Step to the right!" he heard Mike bark out from the door. "Circle it so it doesn't get you with those pincers!"

Swinger processed the instruction for a second and started doing just that. Charlie felt hopeful again – yes, this could work! He reloaded his gun and started circling the creature too, until he got a clear line of sight to its face, then pulled the trigger. The wounded creature was dead half a clip later.

The ginger-haired mercenary stood, his rifle shouldered and aimed at the scorpion for a few more seconds before releasing a deep breath and lowering his gun, his eyes closing. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins and he felt like running away from this place.

'Damn it! You've faced worse!' he scolded himself. 'You've faced super mutants, goddamnit!'

'In an open area, though,' another part of him reminded, 'and on a clear day. Where you could stay further away and run and gun. Not in hand-to-hand range.'

He stopped that train of thought and opened his eyes before it got to him too much.

"Right," he said, raising his rifle in its position underneath his armpit, "thanks, you guys. Shall we?"

They found he den mother further in but they had no trouble defeating the old and slow arachnid, with Mike and Charlie standing and firing shoulder-to-shoulder while Swinger, thanks to his massive physique, was able to fire the automatic rifle over their shoulder. He made another thorough sweep of the building and then came outside, signalling for the others to move in. About time, too, as the storm looked like it could go all-out any moment.

He leaned against the wall by the outside door to collect himself. He had quite the reputation thanks to the super mutant business but sometimes he felt like he was another version of Kyle – someone whose skill the others bloated to unrealistic degrees. Sure, he was an above-par professional at his job, but he wasn't any good at point-blank range. Like fist-fighting. He doesn't know anyone who bricks it as bad as him in these situations. It was assaults like these, when his greatest weaknesses got in the way this much, that he questioned his choice of employment.

Tabitha flashed him a knowing, teasing smile as she moved in, having guessed what sort of a situation he found himself in in there by his reaction. Keri understood that too, and sighed and smiled, compassionate of his plight.

The wagons were removed from the brahmin swiftly and left behind outside while the cattle moved into the church, by the entrance, where they immediately decided to take a crap. It amused Charlie a bit.

Morgan had Swinger bring her an old mattress from the family home in the back to the front, and Charlie brought one for Keri. The former just wasn't a gun trotting mercenary used to these conditions and the latter needed to keep face in front of the employees as the daughter of the company owner. Soon there was a small fire burning inside as the caravaners started warming up their meals and chatting absent-mindedly. Charlie noticed how lively Tabitha was, chatting away with Keri and Sophia about different settlements in the wasteland, the state of things in them, and the particularities of the trade relationships and caravan routes between them. He noticed that the woman was far more talkative right now and seemed generally happier. He mulled over this as he glanced upon the other Crimson guys.

It seemed the chatting women were oblivious to the others surrounding them. The two brothers sat in silence, Swinger tapping his foot in boredom and impatience while Mike observed the conversation between the women slyly, a small smile on his face. Morgan was reading something, Steven was going over his guns, and Tycho and Elliot were talking about something quietly a bit further away.

Many things were important when picking which people to send on a run, and one of the most important ones was how the people interacted and worked with each other. It seemed to Charlie like the personalities of the people picked for this run and their compatibility was not taken into consideration at all, seeing as how on most runs he'd at least find himself in the company of people he found it easy and enjoyable to interact with. This group... not so much. It wasn't like it was made up of bad people or that they argued a lot, but quite a few of them were strangers he had no experience in working together with, and it made him uneasy. They'd already made it almost to Junktown and the people in the group hadn't really warmed up to each other like he'd hoped. Mike and Swinger were always the odd ones out, no matter who you sent them with, and Morgan was Morgan. The inclusion of Keri also added stress into the whole journey, her being the owner's daughter and all. Steven seemed to possess no desire to interact socially whatsoever while, surprisingly, Sophia and Tabitha turned out to be the two greatest talkers in the group. Tycho wasn't exactly the most trusted person in the Hub right now, unlike before, and Elliot, while well-liked, seemed to have decided to shun the company of others, instead preferring to talk to the ranger.

Charlie shifted a little bit so he could listen in to the conversation of the two men, who, as he understood the first time the entire crew got together on the morning of their departure, had already met the day before this run, by the Hightower mansion when it burned down.

"You've never heard of it?" he heard Elliot ask with disbelief in his voice. "It is common knowledge. Life, security, respect, self-actualisation. When a person has one, they start wanting the next. If a person is dying in the wastes all they want from life is to keep living – they want food and water. When a person has sufficient food and water they seek security – they want to make sure the state of things stays the same, and they additionally start to wish for various luxuries. When a person is secure, their greatest wish becomes being respected. Socialising. Even finding love. And when a person is well-established in terms of wealth and respect, only then does their prime motive become fulfilling their dreams and their potential. This has been determined before the War, I think."

"Makes sense," came the Ranger's reply. "Why does it matter, though? The wasteland is a harsh place, I don't know if it's possible to make it so that all people are alive, secure, well-established and living their dreams."

Elliot chuckled.

"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't. The point is, barely any people try to look at it this way. Most either only look after themselves or believe that some universal 'good' is enough for the people," Charlie could hear the ranger sniffle and shuffle uncomfortably. "When you look at things from this perspective you can get creative with how you can fulfil all those needs in people and make for a better society."

"'Get creative'? How?"

"I don't know, that's why I like to travel the wasteland so much, so I could maybe find another way around things. For example, did you know that ghouls need maybe one fourth of the food a normal human needs to stay alive? Most ghouls live in the second stage of needs while many normal humans still dwell in the first... that's something to think about. Work-arounds."

"You think everyone should be ghouls?" Tycho's voice betrayed that he didn't believe Elliot himself thought that.

"No, no, too many disadvantages, like decreased agility and the chance of going feral or dying in the process of turning into one... It's just something that can make you think, you know?"

Charlie shifted his attention to the conversation in front of him, between Keri, Sophia and Tabitha, deciding that whatever the hell it was that the two men were discussing, it was way beyond him. The conversation right in front of him, however, became quite interesting.

"No one knows where they came from; some say that they are a curse left behind by some tribe known as 'the Injuns', or by the pre-war people who died in the fires," Tabitha told her tale in a spooky-ghost-story kind of voice, "but everyone knows you do not want to encounter one. It has no eyes, no nose, and it has a huge maw, with three rows of teeth, some say. It has no neck, two legs, and two whip-like tentacles for hands. It's dark crimson and walks all hunched-over."

"Have you ever seen one?" Keri asked, sceptical.

"I have. From afar, using my binoculars. I saw the thing, passed the binocs to my colloeague to ask him what that was, and he went all paper-white and steered the caravan in another direction. 'Ain't no way we're going up against a wannamingo,' he said."

"What kind of a name is 'wannamingo'?" Sophia frowned.

Tabitha shrugged.

"All I know is that they're tough as clams. They say you have to put a _lot _of lead in them in order to penetrate their skull, which, what with their heads and torsos being basically one and the same, means it's hard to shoot them in the head _or_ the guts."

"What about the size?" Charlie asked, suddenly interested.

"Smaller than a man, I've been told. Couldn't tell myself, it was far away."

"And... where are they usually found?"

"You're not going to seek one out, are you?" Keri frowned.

Charlie snickered while Tabitha rolled her eyes.

"It's Charlie," the woman said, "he wants to know which places to steer clear of. Wannamingos nest far north-west of Reno, more than halfway from there to Trapper Town. Or Klamath Falls, as old maps would tell you."

"That says nothing to me," Charlie admitted.

"Me neither," Keri admitted.

"You guys don't know Reno?" Sophia asked, confused. "The once-capital of Nevada?"

"Wasn't Vegas the capital of Nevada, though?" Tabitha asked.

"No, never. It was Reno, and then it was Carlson City."

"Huh," Tabitha mulled it over for a second. "How do you know this?"

Charlie thought no one noticed, but, in the corner of his eye, he saw Steven suddenly slow down at his work considerably. It seems that was an uncomfortable question for the pair.

"Pre-war books," Sophia replied with a shrug and Charlie took a good look at her, looking for a tell. "Our parents insisted that knowledge is power and so we were all schooled in many disciplines, from the books our people have hoarded since the War."

"Even though your settlement is insular and hidden?" Tabitha asked, unbelieving.

"Insular, hidden and paranoid. If a wastelander should chance upon the place our folks would probably kill them just so no one would know they're there. And they're always preparing for the worst."

The mercenary couldn't tell if she was lying but somehow he simply wasn't buying that story. Besides, as soon as that reply came Steven resumed cleaning his weapon at normal speed. _That_ was a tell, if anything was.

"Anyway, I've heard a lot about Reno. You mentioned it's gang territory nowadays?" Sophia changed the subject.

"Turf of a thousand gangs," Tabitha chuckled and started recounting her visits there while Charlie lied down and sighed, remembering he had watch before sunrise.

Great, some of the folks on this caravan run were liars with an unclear agenda. Of course, seeing as how they had good intentions – to destroy the super mutants – he doubted that whatever it was they were hiding was malicious, but he hated in nonetheless. It made him uneasy. They might have good reasons to lie but to Charlie it meant that he couldn't tell what these people were all about, which meant he couldn't trust either of them to have his back. And he didn't like fractures like that in a group.

Charlie closed his eyes and let Tabitha's stories take him to sleep. Stories of Reno, beset by multitudes of warring gangs, Vault City, where the locals built walls between themselves and the world and let no one have a piece of their wealth and comfort, Hightown, where people found a million ways to make use of the giant ants that infested the region...

He fell asleep hoping that the next place she would speak of would sound good, sound like something the Hub was before this mess. A place he might consider moving to. He didn't.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-04-20 12:20 PM

The Sun was high in the sky, casting its bleaching monotone light on the wasteland. After staying briefly at Junktown the caravan returned to it usual road that the mantises made them steer away from, a road along a buried pre-war highway that led north from the old Bakersfield, a comfortable, smooth and even bed among rocky hills for caravans to traverse. However, as the caravan entered the Sierra Nevada foothills the going got slower as the caravan moved slowly along the range on one of the terraces and the look-outs were spread among the other terraces, but mostly higher up.

Earlier that day Steven sighted a well-hidden camp in the slope of the mountain range, one Tycho and Elliot must have missed, and he had to descend the slope, going even further down than the caravan was going, to investigate. There were four bodies in the camp, dead and eaten quite a while ago. He collected their water and some meds and moved on. He found himself on a narrow terrace that ran along the mountain range, probably an old road, and took the chance to make the going a bit smoother, not feeling like going back up yet. He'd negotiated the Peninsular Ranges without a complaint, but that was when he was travelling with Matthew and Sophia. The comfortable thing about it was that he never had to hurry, they would sort of fall into a comfortable pace and that was that, but now there was the responsibility of staying an appropriate distance from the caravan in addition to making sure he surveys the land properly, which required a bit of extra footwork, especially since there were a lot more trees here than anywhere else he'd seen so far; not that it meant they weren't dying like the rest. It's not that it made him particularly fatigued, it just grated on him, very subtly, and he could hardly feel it, but when he had a mind to, he could feel an irritation inside of him. Probably meant he was not meant to work in a team.

He suddenly stopped and drew his assault rifle.

There were sounds up ahead and a bit west, a meter or so up the slope, its source hidden from him by a rock. The first sound was of something heavy being dragged along gravelly sand soil. The second one was stranger: very quiet, a mix between a dog panting and a plunger sucking. Steven brought his rifle up and pointed towards the rock. A few seconds later, a figure slowly emerged.

He had no idea what it was, except that it was grotesque enough to make him pause. The creature had unhealthily pale skin and walked on god-knows-how-many-limbs. It looked like a mess of flesh, a meter tall and two meters across, like many body parts were melted together randomly. At least a dozen of arms and legs, both human and animal, protruded from the bottom rim of fleshy mess and supported it, their unsynchronized movement pushing the creature forward in an awkward shuffle. Some sort of tentacles that looked a lot like intestines and were the colour of blood protruded from the bottom of that mass of flesh. They seemed to writhe a little bit as the creature trudged ahead on its 'legs'. And the creature had two heads, or something close to that, protruding from what was probably the front of this otherwise symmetrical creature: one of the heads looked like that of a creature he read of once, a hippopotamus, except with a smaller nose and bigger ears, and the colour of pale Caucasian skin. It was as large as four human heads and was held aloft by an elongated neck as thick as an arm, what seemed pretty much impossible. The other head was actually a human head with an entire human torso supporting it. There were no arms on the torso and no neck, the head seemed pushed down so the thing's lower jaw reached down to the solar plexus. The head, human in shape, looked inhuman at the same time: it was completely hairless and seemed bloated, with skin folding into sacks at the back of the head and on the cheeks, the nose being a small stub, and the eyes black and beady, barely visible under the skin folds covering them almost entirely.

The creature was slowly inching towards the wasteland below, rocking back and forth, carried by its mismatched legs. That was until the hippopotamus head snapped at him and the creature stopped, slowly and shakily turning to face the vault dweller.

He snapped out of it instantly, fell on one knee and fired, emptying the clip at the hippopotamus head in four controlled bursts. The head rocked backwards violently with each bullet but by the second burst the whole thing started moving towards Steven with speed that was so unexpected that the young man only noticed after his fourth burst that the creature had crossed half the distance between them, somehow moving towards him as fast as a human can run.

He had no time to think. He stood up and ran, to the west, up the slope, hoping the thing would have a harder time ascending it than he did.

The slope was all sand and gravel. Despite the adrenaline in his system making his body move faster than usual he found the ascent slow, his feet and hands slipping in the soil. He turned his head back at the creature and saw that it was making steady progress, not as fast as before, but not as erratic as the human. The tentacles from the 'stomach', he realised, were propelling it. The creature had fooled him with his slow shamble with those useless appendages and it probably only employed tentacles when chasing someone.

He spent the next ten minutes frantically trying to get up higher, thinking about what to do. He was currently going west, or up, which was good: the caravan was probably moving along a higher terrace now, and he should probably reach it first. Then, it would be a matter of somehow running north through the even ground faster than the thing. God Steven hoped it tired.

There was a sound, right behind him, like a man choking on liquid. He wasn't sure what he was doing but he kicked off with all of his might. There was a dull thud and, glancing back, he saw the human torso part of the creature had smashed into the slope where his legs were a moment ago.

How the hell did it catch up to him?

Simple, a voice in his head answered, you got tired, _it_ didn't.

Out of despair, Steven changed his course to north-west, going up the slope diagonally, hoping it would be more of an inconvenience to the creature. Sure enough, five minutes later the thing that was right behind had fallen back two meters.

Then he reached the upper terrace.

He swore and he scrambled upon it. He had a very small head-start. He took a deep breath and started running north, letting his fright fuel his body. The creature was after him, he could hear it, the same noise of something heavy being dragged along the ground. It was getting closer and closer way too fast.

He jumped and turned around, firing his assault rifle from the hip, reasoning he didn't have enough time to aim. His bullets now all landed in the human torso part of the body, some of them right on the creature's forehead, but it didn't stop. The mutated creature lunged forward with great speed, the human dodging it just barely, rolling aside. He reloaded his assault rifle and fired again, this time at the tentacles the creature used for moving. The mutant turned to face him, and he noticed it did it pretty slowly, neither the tentacles nor the misplaced legs appropriate for the task. He almost smiled when he realized the advantage. He started circling the monster, shooting at the tentacles, smirking when he saw them get shredded. Both of the creature's 'heads' were barely bleeding from the ample bullet-holes he put in them – the creature's skin was like kevlar – but the tentacles were more delicate, his assault rifle was able to mess them up, slowing it down. He kept circling the thing, shooting and reloading. It took all of his concentration to keep firing at the small target and stay quick on his feet so he wasn't fast enough to react when the human mouth opened and a long tongue lashed out like a whip, striking him on the right side of his face. He jumped back in surprise and clutched his face, blood already flowing from the wound. He didn't feel any pain for a moment, and then it came, crashing upon him suddenly and intensely.

The mutant's animal head shot forward and hit him in the chest, sending him flying. He barely registered he was down on his back when the creature caught up to him, the human head opening wide to reveal a mouth full of twisted canine teeth. He grabbed the creature by the human forehead to push it away, but rather than that he only managed to push himself away, dragging his back through the ground.

The creature's 'head' bowed back slightly and Steven was no longer holding the forehead: now the creature's upper teeth were cutting into his wrists as the creature dragged him along the ground as it tried to sink its lower teeth into the man's abdomen. The vault dweller could feel the creature's force even through combat armour bracers and somehow he got the impression the teeth would soon make their way through it.

The second, animal head shot forward towards him, opening its mouth. The joy he felt when he saw the mouth was completely toothless was soon replaced by a shrill scream as the creature mouthed up his upper left arm, the toothless gob closing around it with incredible strength, and then pulled forcefully, making lightning appear in his eyes and, if the pop was anything to go by, dislocating his shoulder.

There was a report of a rifle behind him and a bullet went into the thing's mouth, through the presumably human organs behind it, and out the other end. The human torso bucked slightly, releasing the pressure off of him for a moment. The other head, with his arm in its mouth, yanked again, sending another flash of lightning through his vision and eliciting another scream.

Two more rifles could be heard behind him and the human torso was being riddled by bullets now, constantly pushed back by their force, but something in his dimming mind told him it didn't do any damage. Someone suddenly appeared behind him.

"Can you walk?" he heard a voice he couldn't place for a second. He turned his head and saw a very tense Mike standing over him. Maybe it was the shock, but Steven couldn't help but marvel at what a loud and commanding voice the usually quiet man actually had.

"Can you _walk_?" Mike repeated his question and Steven got up shakily using his good arm.

He glanced behind him and saw all of the caravaners sans Morgan, Tycho and Elliot there, shooting at the monster, while Charlie and Lee caught up to them from behind, carrying mean-looking big guns. He looked back at the monster as its entire body shook under the fire. But it was not shaking in pain, Steven suddenly thought, but rather in irritation. Indeed, the bullets the caravaners fired merely drew blood, and even Sophia's plasma pistol left vicious-looking burns on its skin rather than melting it like it would to a human.

"Come on!" he suddenly heard Mike beside him, "We have to get back!"

Then the creature lunged forward.

But it wasn't towards him, Steven noted, but towards Mike. Somehow the creature must've realized Steven was no longer a threat and switched targets. Acting purely on instinct, the vault dweller jumped forward and gave the man the hardest shove he could.

The moment before the beast collided with him, Steven felt a sort of fire rise in his belly and a maniacal grin appear on his face. He met the collision with a perverted sort of glee.

The impact sent him sprawling on the ground, his limbs limp and unresponsive and his vision darkening rapidly. The last things he could make out before passing out were the others' screams for Mike and a couple of the loudest automatic weapons he'd ever heard going off.

He came to screaming, and the only thing he saw before instantly passing out again was a couple of people leaning over him, one of them setting his shoulder back while the other was holding him in place. He awoke again the next day.


	30. Draw, Part Three

The Wasteland

2161-04-20 12:47 PM

The world slowed down suddenly for Charlie, probably because it held a grudge against him, making him observe the scene that unfolded before him in slow motion, his own body slowing down even more to add to the helplessness.

He recognized the creature from tales old mercs would tell once they've had one too many, and he knew the creature belonged in the 'myths' category, just like super mutants and the Deathclaw belonged there until recently. A pasty set of mismatched limbs, two heads that weren't actually heads – a Centaur. Strong as a dozen Brahmin, the stories went, and able to suck up bullets like a sponge.

He saw the creature lunge at Mike in that accursed slow motion. He saw Steven push the merc away and meet the collision with the most unsettling, maniacal grin known to man. He saw Steven hit the ground and he saw Mike hit the ground as well, having tripped over his own feet when he was pushed.

There was an M60 in Charlie's hands, an automatic rifle so large people usually use them when mounted to a wall. He was raising the barrel, trying to aim it at the creature with unbearable slowness.

He then saw the creature jump up to Mike, who was trying to get up. He saw its seemingly toothless maw close around the man's leg, and he saw the man fly through the air, the creature having thrown him towards the rest of the caravan guards, straight into a rock.

His gun was then levelled and he pulled the trigger, his mind registering in torturous detail the growl that escaped Swinger's throat as the man pulled the trigger of the same type of gun he had at the same time.

The creature wasn't phased by the fire of the other mercenaries, but it _was _phased by the automatic fire of bullets so large they're usually found in bolt-action rifles. He emptied a whole magazine without thinking and noticed the creature still wobbling, albeit very slowly and unsteadily, towards the rest of the onlookers. Both men emptied a second magazine and the creature finally collapsed halfway through, the mercenaries finishing off their bullets just in case.

Then shit hit the fan.

Sophia was still firing her hellish plasma weapon at the prone creature, whimpering in what seemed to be an onset of a panic attack. Swinger quickly reloaded and took aim at the creature, but Charlie stopped him with a hand on his arm and a quite 'it's dead'.

Keri and Tabitha approached the prone figure of Mike while Sophia stood stock-still, her empty weapon aimed at the monster. Some part of his head registered Tycho and Elliot catching up to them. The caravan guards made a run for it when they heard Steven fire his gun behind them, and then heard more fire instead of an all-clear sign. It was decided that the two look-outs would retreat to protect Morgan and the Brahmin in such a case, but it seems they decided otherwise.

"He broke his back," Charlie heard Keri's voice through a mist. He put down the gun on the ground and shook his head, trying to clear away the fuzz that covered his thoughts.

Swinger made a dash for his brother while Charlie remained rooted in place, watching Sophia as she breathed deeply and erratically.

Mike broke his back, Charlie realized. He saw the man collide with the rock back-first, so fast and with so much force that a broken spine seemed a given.

Sophia stirred, lowered her weapon and fixed her eyes as large as plates on the rest of the caravaners that were now surrounding Mike – all but Tycho who ran up ahead to check on Steven.

"Maybe he can be..." she muttered as she started approaching the others. "Shady Sands isn't so far away, maybe we can..."

They can do _nothing_, Charlie knew. People died out here after sustaining less severe injuries. Nasty business. Charlie preferred to stay away and that's just what he did this time, opting to just stand there dumbstruck and observe the situation.

Sophia ran off from the rest of the crew and towards Steven just as Keri murmured something and a single pistol shot rang from that entire congregation. Mike's spine was broken. They put him out of his misery. The ginger mercenary couldn't so much as look in that direction.

"A little help, Charlie?" he suddenly heard Tycho call.

He approached the ranger reluctantly. Steven was alive, at least, though unconscious, a nasty wound that looked like it was torn by a whip on his right cheek, his entire face covered in blood and sand, and his arm very obviously dislocated and lying at a weird angle.

"Arm, his arm's dis... dislocated..." Sophia pointed out frantically, her breathing irregular. "We have to set it back and... something cold and... stitches for the face, we need to... need to check if he's okay if can move can... can we wake him, give him something to... how can we know if he's... what the damage is..."

The ranger gave the rambling woman a look of pity as Charlie approached the unconscious figure and helped the ranger put his arm back into place. The blonde jolted up, instantly conscious, and let out a scream of pain, before passing out on the sand again.

"He's alive and he's moving," the ranger concluded. "He'll be alright," he tried patting the woman on the shoulder reassuringly but the notion was lost upon her. Her eyes were jumping from one part of Steven's body to another, muttering in panic all the while, starting nonsensical sentences she couldn't finish.

"This one is alive," he heard Elliot's calm and soothing voice behind him. "Our medic just passed away, unfortunately, but I think Tycho and I have enough knowledge between us to make sure he survives to get to Shady Sands."

He approached the man's prone body and sat down on the ground next to Sophia, throwing his arm on her shoulders and turning her head so she'd look at him.

"We got this. We'll do the best we can, I promise you. I would like you to give us some space."

Sophia nodded shakily and stood up, wobbling up to Keri and pulling the woman in a tight embrace, making the daughter of the company's owner make a very confused and distressed face. Charlie stood up and stepped back from Steven as well, content to let the other two take care of him.

"Charlie," he heard Tabitha call him quietly. He saw her, standing halfway between Steven and Mike, and approached her, apprehensive about what she had to say. He wanted all of this to be over with.

"Look at him," Tabitha pointed at Swinger, who was standing over the dead body of his brother, staring at him with an empty look. "Swinger's out of it. He just lost his brother, and we just lost someone who can give that hulking brute direction."

Charlie frowned and looked at her.

"I know."

"So go and do something about it."

"What the fuck? Why me?"

"Because no one has really interacted with Swinger _ever_ except for Mike and you during your training sessions. He sees you as a friend."

"You want _me_ to be Swinger's handler?"

"He _does_ need handling," she narrowed her eyes. "Are you against the idea?"

Charlie paused. He was _so_ fucking against the idea but something told him there was no way Tabitha, or even Keri for that matter, would have taken that for an answer. He still hadn't wrapped his mind around the fact that Mike died – because it happened _seconds _ago – and now he was being asked to take care of a full-grown man like he was a baby, which...

Charlie winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. No _way_ were things really heading in such a shitty direction.

"It's just until we're back at the Hub," Tabitha tried to persuade him. He sighed and opened his eyes.

"I have _no_ fucking clue how I'm going to do that," he admitted quietly.

"No one does. But _you_ have a chance. He knows you."

Charlie sighed again, threw Tabitha one last look pleading for her to change her mind, then walked up to the mourning giant.

"Lee?" Charlie called out, eliciting no response from the man. "I'm, uh... sorry about what happened."

Swinger said nothing.

"If you need anything..."

Still nothing.

"Look, man, I just want to make sure you're alright."

No reaction.

Charlie bit his lower lip in exasperation. He looked at the dead body, his mist-covered eyes staring emptily at the sky above, a dark red hole between them, blood trickling down his face. Charlie imagined for a moment that it was _his _brother he was seeing like that and suddenly felt his heart go out to Swinger. The smaller mercenary crouched beside the body and carefully closed his eyes, then just looked out towards the horizon.

"It's fine if you don't want to say anything."

Swinger replied only after a short while.

"He always talks for both of us," the giant finally said, his voice coarse. "I always say the most retarded things."

Charlie chewed on his lower lip, considering the words.

"Nothing I can say to that," he conceded helplessly. Swinger shrugged in response.

"Want to..." Charlie frowned, thinking of a way to put it gently, "want to, you know... bury him?"

The man nodded and looked around.

"He wanted to be buried at a place with a nice view. This one's good enough. I think. What do you think?" Swinger looked at Charlie like he was a child asking a grown-up to help him with something he can't do,

What does _he_ think? He thinks he wants to get the fuck away from here and this awkward situation, _that's_ what he thinks. Alas, despite this, Charlie took a short glance at the view below them and shrugged.

"I think it's good enough."

He brought two shovels, and only a moment before handing one to Lee did he realize that telling the man to dig a grave for his brother would be way too callous in this situation.

"Do you, uh..." Charlie stammered uncomfortably. Swinger looked up and took a shovel.

"I'm good at this sort of thing," he said, "I'm the brawn and he's the brain. I can dig."

Charlie winced and looked at the other man carefully. Swinger never talked much; in fact he'd only heard him talk a couple of times in short sentences. _Everyone_ knew Swinger was slower than moss but he had no idea just what shape whatever was wrong with him took. And judging from what he'd just said, whatever it was, it didn't come with some sort of a speech impediment. Charlie realized he knew nothing about the man. Charlie also realized that at that moment he looked at the other man and saw a grieving brother instead of a burden he was tasked with bearing.

"Okay then," he said quietly, "what about here?"

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-04-24 04:17 PM

When Steven woke up half a day away from Shady Sands, lying down squeezed between boxes of repair parts and cases of booze, Tabitha thought Sophia would be over him in a second, but the awfully quiet woman barely lifted her head and smiled faintly.

"Hey. You okay?"

Steven shook his head, still drowsy and weak, and then nodded.

"I'm alive..." he croaked.

"Good. Get some... oh, nevermind."

She filed that under 'weird shit that needs looking into'.

She glanced at Swinger and Charlie, walking in the back in silence, the latter man's eyes fixed upon the wasteland as if he was contemplating making a run for it. Tabitha often gave Charlie shit about his lack of certain abilities, lack of care, general laziness and being prone to placing drinking and whoring above other things, but she always trusted him to a degree and she knew there was a serious side to him underneath it all. She trusted him to take care of Swinger. Now it seemed he was likely to run away from the responsibility because he was a spoiled brat. Great, another shitty situation she would have to deal with.

Shady Sands looked more alive than it did the last time she was here. While things were burning down in the Hub the locals here seemed to be building a few additional houses, and it also seemed like they were expanding their Brahmin pens. There were people tilling the fields and people putting in extra crank-operated water pumps. It looked like Tabitha's earlier prognosis about the place going down the shitter in short order was a long way off and it somehow irritated her.

The caravan stopped in the middle of the town next to the common house and several people including Aradesh, approached it immediately, having not seen a caravan come through in quite a while, especially one so large and with so many people on it.

Sophia immediately excused herself saying she'll lie down in the common house and tried to yank Steven away with her, but Tabitha was upon him first, insisting she took her to the local doctor.

It wasn't like Tycho and Elliot were bad doctors – both men had some experience in the field – but after having seen how a decent physician works Tabitha didn't trust that all the bandages they put on the man were actually doing him a lot of good. And it was her responsibility to keep both him and Sophia alive, not only so they could do something about the mutant menace, but also because Demetre was interested in the prospect of such capable people working for him in the future and ordered her to look after them. Besides, she had business with the man, business she got straight to as soon as they were out of sight of the rest of the caravan.

"Right," she said and stopped, turning to look Steven in the eye. "I'm not a great talker and despite what you might think I'm actually the one who has to take care of shit on this caravan, and there's a _lot_ of bad shit going on since that attack, so I won't sugar coat it and be straight with you. Do you have a death-wish?"

Steven cast his eyes down and shrugged.

"Fair enough," she replied. "Are you going to just off yourself one day?"

His head shot up and he frowned.

"No," he said, his voice firm. She gauged the response for a couple of seconds and nodded, believing that it was genuine.

"Good enough. I won't pry any further. On with the other shit-storms. What the _fuck_ is up with Sophia?"

Steven looked away, mulling over the question. He said nothing.

"Look, it's not like _I'm_ going to have a talk with her, god knows I wouldn't use a sledgehammer to hammer in a simple nail, but she's been barely responsive after that attack and someone needs to talk to her. And I want that someone to know as much about the situation coming in as possible."

Steven mulled over the question for a few more seconds.

"She almost flipped in the Glow," he replied. "She wanted to somehow get all the data stored in their computers and give it away to the wastelanders so it would help them. But she was unable to," he looked Tabitha in the eye. "She has her head in the clouds. For some reason she thinks it's up to her to heal all the sick and feed all the poor in the world. She had several reality checks, yes, and I think she understands that she needs to lower her standards and tries to keep to that promise, but she's... struggling."

"So all of that hysteria when you went down was because she wanted to single-handedly save both you and Mike but saw, once again, that she couldn't?"

"Hysteria?"

"Yeah," Tabitha shrugged, "she almost had a panic attack."

Steven sighed and looked away.

"The world kicks her in the good place and she goes down like a ton of bricks. But she gets back up again. You can say she's sensitive. She'll be all super-depressed about this whole mess for a while and then she'll get better, hatching another plan to save the world before you know it."

Tabitha checked this information against what happened before and had to admit it made sense.

"It's best if you leave her alone, she'll be unreasonably emotional for a while. I'd say let her talk to Keri, but Keri's..." he left the sentence dangling and Tabitha grinned.

"I get it. She's way too pragmatic to tell her what she needs to hear," she sighed and then looked away at the people working in the fields for a moment before asking.

"How do you work with her? I mean, she gets all emotional and you're your usual stoic self... how does _that_ work out?"

Steven shrugged.

"She just vents at me, gets all the responses she knew she'd get from me, and then starts feeling smart and capable again."

Tabitha had to admit her respect for the woman had gone up when she returned to the Hub the last time, but now, once again, she found it deflating. She winced, imagining it must be hell for the man to travel the wastes with _her_. She knew _she_ would have tried to slap the woman straight after her first hissy-fit.

"Why do _you_ stay?"

Steven shrugged.

"She needs me."

She'd heard this response before and knew what it meant, even though she couldn't say she sympathised.

"Right," she finally said. "Let's go in."

Razlo squinted at her when she came in, and a few seconds later he recognized her, though she had to remind him her name.

"The most important thing is to set everything right and just let it heal," he said as he inspected Steven, now lying on an old bed. He removed the bandage from Steven's face and winced at the stink of it. Tabitha winced with him. The wound was flaming red and there was yellow pus in it.

"Then again," the doctor continued on a bit angrier note, "it's also only decent to check upon the wound once in a while."

"Infection?" She asked.

The doctor nodded. The untouched skin around the wound looked inflamed and the wound itself was glistening, covered by a thin sheet of transparent pus.

"I've got some all-natural anaesthetics," the doctor offered. "A bit cheaper and without the chance of addiction morphine has, but it'll still sting."

Steven nodded carefully.

Tabitha looked at the young man. He didn't seem scared like she thought he would be, or rather, as a normal person would be. He just seemed... angry.

The doctor took a wet towel and cleaned the dry blood and pus from Steven's eyelid, making him wince.

"Let's just take a look here first..."

He cleaned the eye off and Steven opened it slowly.

"Looks fine, at least," he reported. "A bit red but it's nothing serious."

Razlo retreated into the back of his infirmary and returned soon after with a bowl of some brownish goo, which he proceeded to spread on the wound and around it, and then got to work.

"You're no longer travelling with the Hero?" Razlo asked Tabitha casually.

"No, he... went home. Back to his... village."

"Yeah, but then?" He asked.

"What then?" She asked, confused.

"What about after he came back?"

"He came back?"

Razlo looked at her, suddenly understanding what the situation was.

"Yeah, he went back home, the ranger accompanied him, I know," the doctor explained as he got back to his work on Steven. "Then he came back, a week or two later. With two others."

Tabitha blinked a couple of times in confusion. Well _that_ came out of the blue, like she suddenly hit an invisible wall while sprinting as fast as she can.

"What did they look like?" She demanded once she collected herself.

"Don't know," Razlo replied. "Nadine was here, childbirth complications, so I didn't see. You could ask Tandi. She'd know, that's for sure."

Tabitha nodded, trying to get her head straight. He _did _promise he'd come meet her if he didn't stay in that vault, didn't he? Why would he go back on that? And why exactly did she care about it so much? Her thoughts of him hadn't been different than her thought of any other former colleague she hadn't seen in a while... right?

"Guess it doesn't matter," she said finally. "He's a grown man so he can not return to us if he wants."

The doctor nodded absent-mindedly. Tabitha frowned. She supposed that like most other Shady Sands residents he thought he was better off without her, a heartless wastelander. And who knows, maybe that's the truth. Maybe that's what he thought too.

She took one last look at the doctor and Steven, who was lying on the bed visibly tense and uncomfortable, trying not to twitch at the man's poking at his wounds. He'll be alright here, she thought as she nodded to the doctor and left.

She returned to the carts where Morgan had the others set up shop to trade with the residents while Keri was haggling with Aradesh for supplies in larger quantities. She took a pack of cigarettes from her personal stash, took one out and lit it, nodding to Aradesh in greeting, considering what to do. Should she bother Tandi for details, or just let it slide, not interfere with whatever it was Matthew was doing? She felt she had the right to know. They were comrades, after all, companions, and she followed him willingly to Necropolis, just like Tycho and Ian. The least he could do is have the decency to give her some answers, it's not like she'd _make_ him stay if he didn't want to.

Then again, he _was_ indebted to her, the least he could do is drop a line, tell her what the hell he's up to, especially if she wanted to know and told him as much.

But then _again_, why did she care? People came and went, it was like that all her life, and this wasn't particularly new in the wasteland. Why would she become so bothered because of that?

Her frown deepened. The whole matter was bothering her. She couldn't have that. She's a goddamn merc, one of the best caravaners in the Hub if not _the_ best, she can't walk around the wasteland being all disturbed about something so ridiculous as someone not staying in touch with her like they promised. She had to focus, distractions kill in the wasteland. And in her experience, if something is distracting you, you either deal with it by killing it or ignore it. She was pretty good at putting things aside and forgetting distractions so why the fuck not this one? She'll have to take this caravan to the Brotherhood, Necropolis and then back to the Hub somehow, and that last one's very dangerous these days – and that's what matters, not to mention all the shit that's been going on lately.

She finished her cigarette and got a bottle of whiskey from her stash, then proceeded to the common house to let off some steam. It's not like she was particularly welcome here. She found Sophia in the bedding area, in the very corner, her nose in a book. No one else was present.

"Where's everyone?" She asked.

"Behind the building," Sophia replied evenly, poking her face from behind the book cautiously. "They're all celebrating."

"With the locals?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck it, then. Don't need the company," she sat down on one of the beds.

"Same here," Sophia replied evenly and returned to her book.

Tabitha sat for a couple of seconds just looking at the woman reading. She took a mouthful of whiskey and looked at the woman again, tapping her fingers at the side of the bottle nervously.

"So," she began, "why sit here in the dark when you could be celebrating?"

"I could ask the same," came the reply, "seeing as how you're more of a drinker than little old me."

"Well you're no fun."

Sophia just shrugged and continued reading.

She contemplated saying something really cheesy, something most people say in these situations, like 'it'll be okay' or 'I'm here for you', but then decided it would sound disingenuous coming from her anyway so she took another mouthful of whiskey.

"I'll get off your back, then," Tabitha finally said and left. She did indeed find almost all of her comrades drinking at a few makeshift tables behind the Common House. Apparently, a discussion between Tycho and Elliot took centre stage right now, and even Aradesh was present, butting in from time to time.

"I think it's called socialism," Tycho frowned distastefully at something Elliot said. "The idea that everyone is equal and should be treated equally. And communists started the war."

"The Chinese were corrupt," Elliot replied evenly, "and their upper echelons held the masses hostage with brute force while looking only after themselves. I mean, what's wrong with the idea that everyone is equal and should get equal amounts of things they need for what they do in life? Aren't all humans born equal? It's a wonderful idea but the way it was carried out before was plain wrong."

"Some people have it harder than others," Aradesh pointed out, "and they would need to get more in order to be equal with the others. Life is like that, young one, chaotic and unfair."

"And we can all find it within ourselves to take pity on those life has treated rather badly and pull them out of their misery and to the same level as the rest of the population."

"You speak about a system where those in charge would have total control over every aspect of the lives of the citizenry," Tycho frowned. "No way is anyone going to sign up to that. That's... dictatorship at its worst."

"Dictatorship isn't inherently bad..."

Tabitha sat down by the table, smirking inwardly as she imagined what Aradesh must be thinking, hearing those sort of things coming from a man who obviously had nothing but the best of intentions towards his fellow man.

She noticed Lee and Charlie sitting at the table side by side, the former drinking scotch like there was no tomorrow while the latter, to Tabitha's surprise, drank Nuka-Cola. She shook her head and looked at it again. Charlie, drinking _cola_? She heard a multitude of warning bells going off in her head. Maybe he was planning to ditch them _tonight_, while they were drunk.

"Why do they talk so much?" she heard Swinger ask the other man. "All they do is talk about how they're going to change things but they're not. Why?"

Charlie considered the question for a moment.

"It's one of these things that you have to think through very well and talk through with the others, to make sure you actually do the right thing," he explained with a faint smile on his face. At that moment he looked like the very image of a loving father, with threw Tabitha off a bit. Then she caught herself taking another gulp of her drink and considered whether she should get drunk if Charlie was about to skip town. In the end, she decided she wouldn't be able to make him stay without taking him hostage anyway and took two more gulps.

"Is it hard to know what the right thing to do is?" Swinger asked.

"It can be, sometimes."

Swinger bobbed his head down.

"'Sometimes'?"

Charlie looked at the man with concern and then he seemingly realised what the man was getting at, wincing like he was scolded with hot water and putting his hand on Swinger's shoulder.

"Hey, firing an M60 single handedly is hard _all_ the time!"

The larger man chuckled and continued with his drinking, while the other man barely held in a hurt, self-deprecating grimace.

"As long as men aren't _inherently_ equal they will never agree to be practically equal," she heard Tycho concede some point.

The man was sluggish and his speech was slightly slurred, his gaze seeming out of focus somehow. Add to that the fact that he's sniffling less often these days and doesn't shake so much and you can only conclude that he either recovered from his morphine addiction in record time, or that he was using it again. All of her concerns about having junkies as caravan guards or even look-outs aside, she was concerned about where that put the ranger mentally.

Damn, she'd never been as concerned about the emotional state of people around her as she was right now, and it grated on her that she simply wasn't the type of person who could solve these things with words. It grated on her for the first time. Never in her entire caravan-guard career had she been on a caravan where people needed so much coddling.

"And people aren't _inherently_ equal," Aradesh opined, "at least, not when they grow up and become adults. For example, doctors are respected more in _any _community than beggars or even hard-working farmers. You can't expect people to swallow their pride so easily."

"But what is it that makes them want for better things in life?" Elliot asked.

"Why, just their _human nature_," Tycho scoffed.

Tabitha cupped her head and took a drink. She'd promised Demetre to have a talk with Tycho on this trip but she'd been putting it off, content to have Elliot keep him company. She knew the man to be pleasant and full of good intentions and she thought he might be a good influence on the ranger after all the mess with Kyle, but lately she'd been hearing snippets of conversation between them where Tycho would concede that good and bad were arbitrary notions and that sometimes maybe killing was necessary. While she agreed to both points herself, she found it troubling that Tycho agreed to it too, even quite easily, given the way he talked right after that whole mess after Irvin.

Shit, she sighed inwardly. One of the people in her care, a person of interest to Demetre, was wounded and might be prone to suicide, the other was depressed, Mike was dead and Swinger needed handling, and the only candidate for that was likely to ditch the responsibility and flee, and now Tycho seemed to be embracing the dark side and all the ideals that were opposed to those that which he got all of his esteemed desert ranger reputation by upholding. Oh, and Morgan didn't give a shit while Keri would do more harm than good if she tried to do something about this situation, and even worse, Tabitha knew she wasn't up to the task of talking sense back to everyone. This was _way_ more shit than she could deal with.

She left the table without saying a word and wandered around the town, ending up at the Brahmin pens. He leaned on the wooden fence and lit a cigarette, just watching the sunset and trying to think of better times to relieve stress and maybe find a solution.

She realized then that there were very few 'better times'. She had to admit there were very few instances when she was content with things, like she was always unhappy and only rushing towards happiness as opposed to actually having it. She remembered there were happy times back in the north, on board with some of the caravans that actually had strong and interesting people on them. She was quite happy when she was travelling to Junktown with Matthew and Ian, even though that whole rescuing Tandi mess before really got her furious. And she supposed the first days in the Hub weren't bad, but then something just... went missing. She initially became more mellow, until she started becoming restless, to the point where she jumped upon the opportunity to go on this run with eagerness that ill-suited her 'tough wasteland bitch' attitude.

It must be the situation, she concluded. She'd travelled with some really amazing people before and it had been enjoyable. But know, sailing in this broken boat, she felt like she was being dragged through the sand. Surrounding herself with better people – that's the remedy she came up with at the spot, even though it more or less meant that she could and would do nothing about the shitty situation right now.

Her mind went back to her travels with Ian and Matthew. Well, a journey. A week or so on the road walking to Junktown. She missed it. She might prefer people to be hardened sons of bitches like she was, but she found something really enjoyable about teaching Matthew, a helpless vault dweller, how to survive in the wasteland. She had no idea why, and it often bothered her.

She didn't know how long she spent just leaning back like that, thinking about the good times, but it was enough time for her to finish her bottle, for the sun to set and the stars to come out. She found herself drunk and sad at the same time, and that almost never happened. She was a happy drunk ninety-nine percent of the time, but now all she felt was longing.

"And what are you doing _here_?" A voice to the right of her made her jump.

She turned and saw Charlie approach her along the fence, one hand on the rails and the other in his pocket. In the darkness he could only make out that he looked tired but nevertheless had a small smile on his face.

"Just bein' the same old crazy bitch," she attempted a joke.

"So I see," the man smiled.

She suddenly remembered how, despite finding the man irritating, even _she_ had to admit he had ample charisma. And that showed at that moment, as he stood there, hands crossed on the chest, smirking at her despite obviously feeling tired and stressed about the whole Swinger situation – which reminded her, didn't she conclude he as going to run away right about now?

"Everyone's going to bed," he informed her. "We're leaving early. Shady Sands doesn't drag business out, we're done already."

"Bugger," she laughed. "And here I was, looking forward to staying in this awesome place a while longer."

He laughed in response.

Tabitha threw her empty bottle into the Brahmin pen and sighed, wondering whether to say what she was about to say.

"Spit it out, Tabitha," Charlie waved his hand for her to go on.

"I thought you were going to leave tonight," she admitted, not looking at him. "Are you?"

Charlie sighed.

"No."

She looked at him.

"Really?"

"Really," he replied, his voice more tense now, like he felt he was being insulted.

"It's just that you were so... unhappy with the whole Swinger... thing... and then you kept looking at the wasteland like you were about to run..."

"A man can dream, can't he?" Charlie waved his hand dismissively and chuckled. "I'm unhappy but it's not like I could abandon Swinger right now and keep living with myself. The guilt would spoil any fun I'd try to have," he shrugged nonchalantly.

Tabitha chuckled.

"You're sober."

Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Have you ever seen Swinger drunk? I reckoned he'd get shit-faced tonight, and let me tell you, carrying, _that_ man to bed requires not only strength but very good reflexes too."

Tabitha chuckled.

"So nice of you."

Charlie shrugged again and Tabitha looked away, at the Brahmin they'd woken up during their conversation. She started chewing on her lower lip without even noticing. She felt foolish for suspecting Charlie would run away. It seems she underestimated the man.

"Something on your mind?" Charlie asked after a long pause, concerned. _Concerned_, she could see that. How nice of him.

Should she lay it on him?

No, better not to appear like some wooby.

But what does his opinion matter?

And why not when he asked so nicely?

"Remember how I told you about Matt?"

Charlie nodded.

"Well, he's back. He's left his vau- home and he didn't even come say hello, the rude fucker!"

Charlie looked away for a second, thinking, and a second later his eyebrows shot up. Yeah, he understood what she almost said. His vault. Darn.

Then again, it's Charlie, so it's not like it's a big deal.

He's just some guy who coasts through life without effort and life never even touches him. The sort of guy you can tell anything to and it won't have any bad consequences. However, as she just learnt, he _did_ care about things, at least some of them. She tried to put this information in context with the rest, but her drunk mind refused to do something so laborious. She just concluded with 'Charlie's actually pretty alright'.

'Pretty alright', she chuckled. She remembered Keri saying he was into her, and she found the thought of him finding out that he thought he was merely 'pretty alright' quite hillarious.

"You okay?" He asked.

Just peachy, she thought. Just peachy. One less shit-storm to weather, then.

She suddenly realized another implication of that.

Oh no you won't.

Will you?

Oh fuck it, why the fuck not? She's only human.

"I remembered something," she smiled cheekily and dashed away from the pens, trampling some cabbage along the way. Charlie followed her with an amused grin, she saw as she ran into a small adobe shed where the locals kept their farming tools. The man entered several minutes later.

"I saw this the last time I was here," she said, probably grinning like a fool.

"This is thrilling," he remarked sarcastically, looking around.

"No, but maybe _this_ will be," she said as she closed the distance between him and gave him a long, passionate kiss.

He inched back a bit but returned it, then bent forward, closer to her, and then slowly broke the kiss, pushing her away gently.

"You're not thinking straight," he said quietly.

Tabitha frowned. What the fuck?

"I'm _always_ thinking straight, even when I'm drunk."

"It's not because of that."

"Yeah? Then why?"

Charlie looked away, as if choosing his words carefully.

"Out with it!" Tabitha demanded, getting angry. Was she making a fool of herself now?

He looked her in the eyes.

"Ian told me, when he returned with you, that... you two would've never gotten together if it wasn't for Matt."

Tabitha frowned.

"The fuck are you talking about?"

He threw his hands in the air in defence.

"Look, I don't know what I'm talking about right now, but Ian... well, he said that Matt had a strange effect on you, said you would've passed him... Ian, that is... would've passed him by without a second glance if Matt hadn't somehow given you pause and thrown you into his... Ian's... arms."

She suddenly remembered those times Ian asked if she was thinking about Matthew during sex.

"I don't want to have sex with Matt! I want to have sex with _you_!"

"Yeah, maybe, but... It's like you're not thinking straight," he looked away for a moment considering, and then back at her. "Look, I know you... a bit... and you're very headstrong. If you have a goal on your mind you're very formidable, but you're also... guarded. You never let yourself get distracted by anything or do something that would turn out badly. So you met Matt... and you fell in love with him..." Tabitha opened her mouth to protest he waved it away, "and seeing as how thought you couldn't afford to be with him even if you wanted you... transferred you affection to someone more suitable. To Ian."

Tabitha swallowed. That sounded... like truth. No, maybe close to it... or maybe it was? No fucking way... But then again...

"If you hadn't learned about Matt today," Charlie asked quietly, "would you still be throwing yourself at me?"

The question somehow hit a sensitive chord with her, and she shook her head refusing to think about it.

"It's not like you _love_ me or anything," he said quietly, "and I _am_ aware of how 'highly' you think of me so... I know you'd regret this."

Now _that_ was all true, Tabitha realized. She _did _make a fool of herself.

She looked up at Charlie, anger boiling inside of her.

"Well, then, it seems you have to _really_ drunk in order to fuck a girl," she spat. "Wonder why _that_ is."

She shoved Charlie aside forcefully and stormed out of the shed.

Fuck no, fuck no, fuck no, fuck no.

She turned around. Charlie stood at the shed's door watching her leave. In the corner of her eye she noticed a farmer approaching the man. Don't worry, Charlie, if it's _this_ fool causing trouble than no one's going to blame you.

She returned to the Common House and fished out another bottle of booze and spent the night wandering around Shady Sands drinking alone, alternating between thinking about what Charlie said and saying 'fuck it' to it all and just having fun scaring the Brahmin and running away when the commotion brought one farmer or another outside. By the first light she was both drunk and slightly hungover if the headache was anything to go by, and she was the last one to join the caravan before it started moving.

"Right," she just said, showing up wobbly and with a bottle in her hand. "Let's get this party going! I want to at least get to the Brotherhood from here without shit hitting the fan. So shove any drama y'all have up your asses and be fucking professional!"

The others gave her strange looks and got a move on. She tried to follow on foot but gave up half an hour later, opting to ride on the side of a cart. She noticed Charlie talking with Swinger in the back from time to time, and throwing concerned glances at her. She gave him the middle finger in her head, trying her hardest to write everything he said off as the ramblings of an idiot.

She found it hard.

* * *

><p>The Brotherhood<p>

2161-05-01 03:34 PM

They reached the Brotherhood with incident, a raider attack during which Morgan caught a stray bullet in the shoulder, which sent her falling from the cart and to the sand below. Elliot and Tycho treated it the best they could but it was showing signs of being infected the next day. And Morgan wouldn't stop bitching about it.

Keri observed all this impatiently, counting down days before they were back in the Hub. She knew shit was piling up in this crew. Mike was gone, Swinger was unstable, Steven was wounded, Sophia was depressed, and Tabitha was being more of a bitch than she'd ever seen her be. Then there were her increasing concerns about the ranger and the shit he might cause now that his mind wasn't exactly in the right place. She felt like the only people still functioning normally in the crew were herself, Elliot, whom she always found to be too smooth and good-willing to be genuine, and Charlie, who was under stress due to having to handle Swinger single-handedly. If they were her friends, like Ian or Tabitha, she would've given it straight to them and told them to get their shit the fuck together, but she knew it would do more harm than good. And with Tabitha in such a foul mood she found herself reluctant to even talk to one of her friends.

As the caravan approached the Brotherhood Keri did a headcount. Morgan could barely sit straight now, she needed medical assistance, and knowing the Brotherhood she would no receive it until they got to Necropolis. Tycho and Elliot were still capable, and so were Charlie and Swinger, though they would have to stay close to each other. And of course, no matter what was going on with Tabitha it wasn't going to give her pause if she got into trouble. That was all that mattered. Getting back to the Hub alive and letting people deal with their issues on their own, instead of here where it can cause a fatal mistake.

Dropping Steven and Sophia off here wouldn't hurt them too much, she concluded. Still, as they stopped at the wire-link fence around a small solitary metal shed in the wasteland that was the entrance to the Brotherhood, Sophia was polite enough to thank her for all the information she'd imparted upon her and ask if they'll be alright without the two of them from here on in.

"We've forseen losing the two of you," Keri replied diplomatically, "and I think that with the people this caravan still has we'll somehow manage."

She saw the two associates approach the men by the shed, the elevator into the bunker, when suddenly the bunker doors opened up and two people stepped outside.

One of them was clad in power armour. Military personnel, _certainly_ not the man they usually sent to make deals with the caravans.

She did a double check on the other person as she thought she was seeing things, but no, she wasn't seeing things: right there, walking slowly and with an unusually stern expression on his face behind the armoured man, was Matthew.


	31. Aim, Part One

Lost Hills

2161-04-21 05:15 PM

The Brotherhood of Steel turned out to be located south and slightly west of Vault 13, in sandy plains where barely anything grew. A great place to go if one wants to feel small or like they are trudging through the wasteland at a much slower pace than they really are. Coming closer to the small dot near the horizon, and, on his Pip-Boy map, the small icon Steven had given him the coordinates of, he went through everything he knew about the place.

The Brotherhood of Steel. Very highly advanced technologically. Not a common sight in the wateland, but when they are seen, they are seen in in T-51b Power Armour, carrying laser and plasma weaponry and miniguns. Extremely insular. Send people who wish to join them on a very perilous journey far away, perhaps to be rid of them. Might actually worship technology. Might be in league with the super mutants: their technology might be the source.

The headquarters of the Brotherhood were close now, a small concrete building with a single door. Most likely it's just the elevator to their underground base. A wire-link fence surrounded the small structure, and there were two guards protecting the elevator. He could see the way the metal plates of their silver and green composite power armour reflected the sunlight, though they didn't shine as if they were new and polished. Both guards had miniguns in hand, the one on the left wearing a helmet and the one on the right without one.

He needed a much better plan than he had – just strolling in, asking to join, and using being allowed inside to find an opportunity to dig for any information, regarding either Mariposa or their relationship with the mutants, or both. But no other plan came to his mind.

"Hello and welcome to the Brotherhood of Steel," the guard without the helmet greeted him as he passed the gap in the fence. He stopped. "May I inquire as to your business here?"

The middle-aged man sounded friendly. Definitely civilized.

"I'm here about joining your order."

"Great!" the man perked up. "Give me a second and I'll see what you need to do."

"I've been to the Glow," Matthew replied, stopping the man short of turning around to use the intercom. "A friend of mine said you can get into the Brotherhood if you bring proof of what happened to those of you who went there before. I have it," he produced a holo-tape and showed it to the man.

"Oh... Wow! Really? Well come on over!"

The guard took his right hand off the minigun and lowered its barrel. Matthew approached. There was a small metal pin on the armour that said 'Paladin H. Cabbot'.

"Well, I'll just have to take it to Head Paladin to see if it's genuine... Be right back!"

Cabbot approached the console and punched in a code, eight digit, and the elevator opened. When it closed and the small structure started emitting grinding and choking noises the vault dweller noticed the other guard was watching him.

"So... you've been to the Glow?"

'Paladin C. Darrel,' the name-tag said.

"Yes."

"Can't believe you got out alive!"

"Neither can I."

"Is it as bad as they say?"

"No. Still pretty bad, though."

The Paladin laughed.

Cabbot returned with a smile on his face and motioned for him to come inside the elevator. Matthew gave Darrel one last nod and entered.

The elevator was old and the walls and floors were scratched to hell, probably by people in power armour squeezing inside all at once. There was a scratched yet still clean mirror on one of the walls and Matthew looked at it, to see a dirty wastelander looking back at him. His hair was almost shoulder-length, filthy, matted, twisted into knots in some places. He could see the wrinkles around his eyes, the wrinkles he didn't know were there, emphasized by the fact that the skin around the eyes wasn't as tanned as the rest due to him wearing shades. His stubble was almost a decent beard now. He looked mean and cold. Tabitha would approve.

The elevator stopped and the door opened, letting in the cold, dry air of the bunker. The air had no smell here, except for a very slight tinge of metal.

The interior was spacious and the hallways wide, floors covered with metal grating, flattened and scratched by power-armoured feet, and the walls were etched in a way that, coupled with their rust-brown colour, was probably supposed to have imitated the look a log cabin interior once.

The fluorescent light-illuminated hallways were quiet as the grave except for the low hissing of the air conditioning systems and the metallic clinks Cabbot's armoured feet made as he escorted Matthew to a door not far away. The doorway was round and the door itself consisted of three metal plates shaped like fangs, protruding from the doorway at various angles, their edges and tips touching to prevent access. The door opened, the fangs sliding into the walls with a quiet swish of metal on metal, and Cabbot motioned him inside.

It was an office, completely devoid of any decorations. By the doorway in the back stood several file drawers and a locker in the corner. A desk with a console on top was situated in the middle of the room, with two chairs. A man sat on one of them, clad in power armour but without the helmet. His face was almost a square and his black hair had been shaven army-stile. A set of stern eyes in olive-coloured face regarded Matthew for a moment before the man motioned to the chair opposite the desk and returned to reading something on the console, his lips narrowing to thin strips underneath his moustache.

"Head Paladin Rhombus," the man introduced himself evenly, in a military fashion. "Brotherhood of Steel. Paladin Cabbot says you retrieved it from the West Tek Research Facility?"

Matthew sat down as the door closed behind him with Cabbot outside. He couldn't hear the man's footsteps from inside the office, meaning the bunker's walls were quite soundproof.

"That's correct," the vault dweller finally replied, in a simple, even manner.

"Sergeant Allen mentions in his log that the personnel who entered the base – personnel in power armour – were all killed by robots."

"It looked like it."

Rhombus frowned as he looked back at Matthew.

"And yet you survived."

"Main power systems malfunctioned some time after that expedition. The robots we came across were inert."

The man scowled and slowly turned his head back to the report on his screen.

"What happened to the equipment they were carrying?"

"They still wore their armour but everything else was missing. There are hostile ghouls in the area. They probably took it. They aren't threatened by the radiation there, after all."

Another disbelieving glare.

"And I suppose you, how do you say, 'scavenged' the place when you were there?"

Matthew nodded.

"What did you find?"

"Not much. Some guns, ammo, a few grenades. Some files from the computers too, but, uh... There was only the one working console."

Rhombus' expression softened ever so slightly.

"Any laser or plasma equipment?"

"No."

"Any other advanced technology?"

"Aside from the power armour, no."

"Did you take it?" he asked sharply.

Matthew frowned.

"Did we take the heavy composite armour we'd never seen before from the bodies of soldiers who died years ago? No."

"'We'? Who was with you?"

"A couple... acquaintances."

"And yet you're the only one here."

"They have business in Shady Sands. Took a more circuitous road."

"They are not getting in," the Head Paladin dead-panned. "We will consider allowing you to become an Initiate of the Brotherhood, but we will not consider it for three people. Or more."

Matthew nodded.

"I understand."

"Is there going to be a problem?"

"No."

Rhombus regarded him suspiciously.

"Well, then. Why do wish to join the Brotherhood?"

Matthew knew he would probably be asked this question and he mulled over his answer the whole way here from Necropolis. There was only one thing he could say that would make the Brotherhood less suspicious of his intentions, and maybe even more positively disposed towards him.

He opened his backpack, making Rhombus tense momentarily, and took out his Pip-Boy.

"I'm from Vault-13. Born and raised. And I would rather be here in the Brotherhood than out there. And this also means I can be an asset."

Rhombus frowned and took the machine, bringing up the interface and going through the data.

"And why is it that you left?"

"The controller chip for our water purification system broke and someone needed to find a replacement. We didn't have one. I was one of the people chosen for the job. When I found it and took it to the Vault, they told me they wanted me to explore the surface more and report my findings to them. I figure it meant they didn't really want me there anymore. Probably scared I turned into some savage. I figured I didn't owe them anything and decided to just go my way."

Rhombus asked Matthew about where he found such a high-tech item, which led to him mentioning Vault 12, and then the whole story of how its residents turned into ghouls. The Head Paladin listened to his story while sifting through his Pip-Boy and making some notes on his console, even calling him 'Mr. Coyle' at some point, having looked it up. He then asked about his affiliations and his past. Matthew managed just fine, and probably even made himself look pretty good in Rhombus' eyes judging by the minuscule shifts in his facial muscles.

"We will consider your application," Rhombus said an hour later. "Until then, you are a guest here and will receive our hospitality. However, you are forbidden from picking up or otherwise interacting with any advanced Brotherhood equipment – excluding unlocked doors and elevators and including the information stored in our data-banks – unless given permission by the ranking member responsible for the facility you are in. You will be informed of the Council's decision as soon as it is made. You will withhold your questions until then. Now, please step outside and await for an escort to your lodgings."

Matthew took his Pip-Boy, stood up and walked out the door without a word. He was never good at exchanging pleasantries with someone whocouldn't so much as ask his name. He shifted his weight from one foot to another as he waited in the cool hallway, trying to catch a sound, any sound, around him, but failing. Except for when the elevator doors opened and his escort arrived.

He was a short man, a couple years younger than the vault dweller, his blond hair buzz-cut, and his small eyes and long nose making him look mousy. He was wearing brown cargo pants, and a cotton jacket, obviously made in Shady Sands, and carried the same kind of clothes along with him. He smiled when he saw the vault dweller.

"Hi! I'm Jerry! I'm an initiate here. They told me to show you to where you'll sleep. What's up with that anyway? You're a guest here? We don't get many guests. Probably means you're important, huh?"

"I'm Matt. I'm trying to join the Brotherhood," he replied neutrally, taking the clothes and following the man towards the elevator.

"You're... Wow!" the man practically jumped into the air. "Wow, that's never even happened before! Well, as far as I can remember, maybe it happened before, I'm sure Vree or Elder Maxson could remember... But, wow! You're an actual wastelander! I bet you've seen a lot of stuff up there, huh? I've never been up there a lot myself, just for some training missions a while ago. I'm just an Initiate, by the way, and I haven't decided which order I want to join, and I think being a Paladin would be really cool but it's really dangerous, right?"

They exited the elevator on level two, which looked and felt identical to Level one, with its maze of clear spacious hallways and nondescript doors, and Jerry continued his tirade.

"I mean, it would be cool to see all the places and meet all the people the Paladins meet, and it's not even that scary getting into a fight with power armour on, unless it becomes so damaged all the liquids start leaking inside and the suit stops responding and you're paralysed in an 85-pound coffin, but what I'm saying is, it can be really scary out there, right? That's what they keep telling me but I think you would know..."

Jerry's babbling was interrupted by, of all things, a bright red ball bouncing off of the back of his head. Both men turned around and saw a little girl, maybe six years old, catch the ball and run away giggling.

"Damn kids!" Jerry swore. "No respect for the elders, none at all!" he started back towards where Matt was supposed to sleep. "I bet she's not even in Basic Training, oh no! I remember basic training, it makes a man out of you real quick, teaches you respect and discipline, not to be a damn... oh! We're here!"

The room he was led to looked like it was a dorm designed to house up to twelve people, but was currently empty and looked unused. There were four bunk beds, three stories each, twelve lockers by the wall, and seven desks by another, one of them with a switched-off console on it.

"No one lives here?" Matthew asked.

"No, not really, we've got more space than we need. But hey, you'll get this room all to yourself..."

"That's because all of the members of the Brotherhood are born into it, right?" he interrupted.

"Yeah, we were all born here, and that's why it's so exciting to have you here and..."

"Did Rhombus tell you to tell me anything? I mean, what I'm supposed to be doing?"

"Oh, uh... no, not yet, but I'm sure he'll send someone over in the morning..."

Matthew dropped his backpack in one of the lockers and dropped on one of the beds with his boots and clothes on. The bed was hard. But lying on it gave Jerry a hint he could understand.

"Well, you... you make yourself comfortable and I'll see you tomorrow, maybe, huh?"

Matthew smiled.

"Goodnight, Jerry."

"Uh... Goodnight, Matt! I hope everything turns out okay for you!"

Jerry left and Matthew stood up from his bed. He tried turning on the console on the desk but it wasn't plugged in. He then checked the door at the back of the room, delighted that it led to some sort of a communal bathroom, with six stalls of toilets and six stalls of showers. He approached the latter and turned the red knob. Water started pouring out of the shower-head and it was hot and made Matthew smile. He discarded his combat armour and clothes on the floor and took an extra long hot shower, glad that his visit here provided at least one good thing so far.

* * *

><p>Lost Hills Bunker<p>

2161-04-22 06:58 AM

The door to the dorm slid open and Matthew opened his eyes at the same time, ready to defend himself. A minute later, when his guest had walked up to the bed, he drowsily remembered where he was and what was going on.

"Heya, I'm Bill. Or Knight William Mason if you're fancy," the man greeted, a teasing frown on his face. "And it's time to get up, sleeping beauty¹"

Matthew got up slowly, looking the man up and down. He was tall and slender, wearing the same attire Jerry did yesterday, but his stance said he was no stranger to violence and always ready to defend himself. His wavy blonde hair was grown out, not buzz-cut like all the others' he had seen, and something about his posture made Matthew suspect he might have been a wastelander at one point, or maybe that he'd seen enough of the surface world to have wastelander attitude rub off on him.

"Matt. We're... uh, what're we doing today?"

"Well, gotta feed 'ya, first of all," the man laughed, "and then give you a tour and whatnot. Keep you occupied so you don't go crazy sittin' in a room waitin' to see what the higher-ups decide."

'And keep and eye on you, right?' Matthew thought but got up and got himself dressed instead of voicing his thoughts. For a moment, his hand reached for his hand-gun, force of habit making him compelled to take it everywhere he went, but he decided against it. He still had his knives in his boots and the Brotherhood was a safe place.

'Safe?' the vault dweller almost laughed. When was the last time he came upon a safe place in this world?

Besides, the Brotherhood might just try to kill him yet, since their fool's errand didn't.

"Let's see it, then," Matthew smiled politely at the other man, who cocked his eyebrow at that.

"Food first, lengthy tour later," the man murmured.

The mess hall was brimming with Brotherhood personnel when they got here, a sea of identical clothes that he himself wore, men with buzz-cut hair and women with their hair in tight buns or pony-tails. They were all about five to ten years older than him.

"Breakfast is at different time for different people?" Matthew observed. "Who are _they_, exactly?"

The man, Bill, smiled, as if he found the observation entertaining.

"Lower-level members of the three main orders," replied, smirking, as if knowing it was a non-answer to an outsider like him.

"Oh, do go on!" Matthew teased and then his face fell as he remembered, "Rhombus told you to I wasn't supposed to ask questions?"

"What?" the Knight seemed confused as he picked up a tray and got in line in front of the buffet. "No, he didn't mention it. That would be stupid. If you're going to be one of us, then we should at least introduce ourselves, yeah?"

"Maybe I won't. Be one of you."

"Bullshit, you came back from the _Glow_. The Elders are retarded, but not retarded enough to turn away a vault dweller with that much competence."

"Aw, sweet," Matt replied evenly. A plump elderly woman eyed the two of them warily when they got to the front of the line but gave them their breakfast nonetheless. Oatmeal. A much larger portion than the wasteland standard. More or less on par with the Vault, though, even if there was no actual oatmeal there.

Bill led the two of them to a table in the corner of the mess hall and the vault dweller couldn't help but notice how only two people in the seemingly friendly and tightly-knit crowd even acknowledged Bill's existence, merely giving him small nods, on their way across the Mess Hall.

"So," Matthew said as they sat don and started to eat. "You mentioned orders?"

"Mhm," nodded with his mouth full of food. "There's three main ones – Paladins, who are heavy troops, Knights, who are technicians and sometimes scouts, and Scribes who are scientists and doctors. There's also the Initiates and the Elders. Four of them, and then High Elder Maxson."

Matthew nodded his understanding and ate in silence, concentrating on the people chatting away around him. The conversations were mostly light, the members sharing news about their work and the latest gossip. That was really reminiscent of the vault. The top gossip today was the higher-ups and the new orders they were giving. Apparently, gun manufacturing was up and the number of patrols setting out was down. Interesting. The Brotherhood was probably reacting to the mutants – who were on the move if Necropolis was anything to go by – and the reaction seemed to be bunkering up. Maybe the faction had nothing to do with the mutants, as he considered as a possibility before.

He looked up at his companion and found him looking back at him, eyes squinted.

"What?"

"Nothing," he waved his hand dismissively, "just watchin' you watch us. And maybe tryin' to figure out whether you're more of a vaultie or a wastelander."

"Rhombus told you that."

"Yup. I _am_ the one responsible for 'ya," he chuckled. "Though the Head Paladin probably thinks the latter."

"Figures," Matt shrugged. "You look more like the former to me so it makes sense he thinks so."

"We ain't vaulties," smiled and it was borderline intimidating. "We're out there with power armour and laser weapons."

'Vaulties with heavy weapons, awesome,' Matthew thought dryly.

"But the head badass with power armour and laser weapons seems to think I'm more savage than civilized. Did he tell you why?"

"Nope," he replied. "He said little about you, really. But if he thought you were more of a vaultie he would've had one of the scribes be your handler."

"I'm not a dog," the vault dweller replied dryly.

Then he remembered how very few people seemed to even acknowledge Bill's existence on their way to the table.

"And you're more of a wastelander?"

The Knight's eyebrows shot up and he nodded, impressed.

"You saw how no one likes me?" he laughed. "Yeah. That's why I'm your... not-handler. And you've noticed it. Means you're more of a constantly-vigilant waster than a vaultie."

"And why are you a 'waster'?"

The Knight tapped his spoon on the edge of his bowl absent-mindedly and looked away, thinking.

"It's kind of a secret from the outsiders, but fuck it, people know this or suspect this already," he looked back at Matt. "I'm more of a scout-Knight than a technician-Knight. I'm usually sent to the other settlements to keep an eye on the situation and look for any technology, to scavenge or to... 'liberate'."

"Liberate?"

"That's fucked up," he laughed. "No one told you what we're all about?"

Matthew shook his head and sighed, putting the spoon down and leaning back.

"We're tryin' to survive," he said, looking away again, "that's the main goal, at least the High Elder and some of the folks here think so. But the Codex, this thingy that's our law, it says that the Brotherhood's 'mission' is to 'collect and protect technology so it could be reintroduced to humanity when the time is right'. Which means that if, say, someone in the Hub gets their hands on some impressive piece of tech, we try to take it away. To 'protect humanity from itself', allegedly."

Matthew frowned.

"You disagree?" he asked the Knight.

"I've seen enough of what's out there to know better," he murmured and returned to his meal.

Matthew agreed. With all the violence and survival going on in the surface world confiscating a piece of technology from one person or another seemed to be inconsequential. Not to mention... raider-like. And backed up by some whack pseudo-philosophy.

Matthew took a moment to sigh in exasperation. Something about the Brotherhood really rubbed him the wrong way.

"Were've you been?" Matthew asked instead.

"Been to Shady Sands. Nice enough place, I guess. Fragile, though. But I'm mostly in the Hub. The best place to be if you're on the lookout for tech."

Matthew took a long hard look at the man, feeling like there was something off, and then the pieces clicked together.

"You were kidnapped in the Hub," Matthew suddenly said. Bill perked up his head. "You got rescued by some guy, a dog and a ghoul."

Bill's gaze remained frozen on his face for a few seconds and then he broke into a grin, his spoon abandoned in the almost-empty bowl as he leant back.

"Mother fucker!" he laughed. "I kept thinkin' you looked familiar!"

So he'd saved the man's life before. It made Matthew feel somewhat uncomfortable, but then he realized it's probably a good thing. He really needed an ally in this place, and if he's going to go snooping around, the life debt might just come into play.

"Yeah, I kinda forgot your face," Matthew laughed. "A lot of shit has been going down."

"I already said this, though not in my preferred tough-guy manner, but thank you!"

"Don't mention it," Matthew waved the thanks away, but the Knight just leaned forward instead.

"I mean it," he whispered, "and I pay my debts. I might just have something in mind," he smiled devilishly, winking.

They took a tour after breakfast, like nothing had happened, but Bill seemed to have instantly warmed up to him. Figures. Matthew saved his life. Even Tabitha, the pragmatic wasteland bitch, respected that, and followed him to the Khan camp, even if she was bitching all the way, and someone who lived in a vault-like place like the Brotherhood was even more likely to take such a thing very, very seriously, more alike the wastelanders or not.

The Brotherhood bunker had only four levels, all of them very large, probably including Level 4, where the most important facilities were located, where the authorities of the order met, and where Matthew wasn't allowed just yet.

Level 1 was mostly storage and some exercise facilities, Rhombus' office aside. Level 2 was the living quarters, which made Matthew re-assess the whole organization slightly. They were divided in separate wings for Initiates, Paladins, Knights, Scribes and families with small children. Even before that Matthew had noticed the way the people in the Bunker all held themselves like military personnel, especially in the hallways where they were more likely to pass a higher-ranking member by. That, combined with the living arrangements – living in dorms depending on your profession – made him realize the Brotherhood was more like an army than a vault. He scratched the back of his head absent-mindedly. It made him uneasy.

The clinic, also located on this level, made him even more uncomfortable. It had state-of-the-art medical facilities, complete with medical equipment he'd only read about in books. The Auto-Docs he was familiar with, their vault had one, but the Brotherhood had three.

"Wouldn't want to be the first in line in those," the laid-back and jovial doctor, Lorri, quipped, "the Knights do a good job at maintenance and we do trial runs periodically, but these barely see any action. Power armour, you know? Barring William here, of course," she laughed while the man in question flinched. He'd apparently run into some trouble on his way back to the bunker from the Hub and had to have his leg fixed up by the machine. The fact that Matthew didn't even notice a hint of something being wrong with the man's leg probably proved the doctor's fears wrong, though.

Level Three was the working place for most. It included the huge computerized library and some of the more advanced classrooms for low-ranking members of each Order rather than ll the Initiates. The chemistry classroom was apparently running low on everything, but the physics one was large and well-equipped.

There were libraries upon libraries and workstations upon workstations where the Scribes did their research, and the Knights had their own wing where they worked in large rooms with ten to twenty work-benches each. Matthew noted how all but two of the rooms were dedicated to military research – strengthening power armour, putting together plasma weapons, repairing guns and armour, recycling ammo, research into making weapons more effective and so on. The Brotherhood was formidable, of that there was no doubt, and it made Matthew even more uneasy. He _really_ hoped they wouldn't just shoot him in the head and be done with it.

Bill took him back to the Mess Hall for lunch and said he had to get back to work on something, passing him on to a colleague – Jerry the Initiate, who was apparently almost done with his classes for the day and was very, very eager to show Matthew around.

He rambled and rambled all the way to Level 1, where they were supposed to do something – Matt didn't catch what it was but Jerry said that he 'will _love_ it' – all while asking all sorts of questions about the world above and Matt himself, always asking a new one before Matt could answer a single one. By the time they reached their destination Matt had tuned him out. Well _Jerry_ at least really reminded him of the vault more than he was comfortable with.

He was to accompany Jerry in a lesson. 'You will _love_ it,' Jerry's words echoed in his head as he clenched his fists in irritation, borderline anger.

The instructor was a bulky man, wrinkled and with half of his hair gone and the other half completely grey, but he seemed vigorous and had a certain, almost childish spark in his eyes. The 'classroom' was as orderly as everything else in the Brotherhood, with various lifting weights and treadmills, all in pristine condition, stacked neatly in rows at one side of the large space, and the hand-to-hand practice area being a couple of decidedly clean- and new-looking mats, but the older man certainly made the lesson feel like something borderline fun, which did little to abate his anger. Oh, so he was a wastelander, as these people assumed, and he must _love_ knocking other people's teeth in.

And, of course, it was only a matter of time before the instructor called him forward for a demonstration. Jerry grinned and Matthew kind of wanted to be on the mat with _him_.

He stepped on the mat awkwardly. The only few times he went hand-to-hand was _when_ he didn't have the time to draw his gun and _to_ get enough time to draw his gun. He guessed he was supposed to assume a fighting stance, but literally had no idea how to, so he shuffled uncomfortably and dead-panned:

"I'm a sharpshooter and literally have no idea how to fight with my fists."

He heard a few sniggers from the people around him, but the instructor just smiled kindly.

"Well, first assume a fighting stance like this," he said and stood more or less like boxers about to start a match that he'd seen in the movies. He tried to assume the same stance and just felt stupid.

"No, no, you're too rigid! Test your footing, make sure you can move around unhindered. Check the centre of your weight. And put your hands a little lower! You're supposed to be ready to deflect blows aimed towards your stomach, not just your face."

Matthew shuffled around uncomfortably, feeling the judging eyes of the other Brothers drilling into his skull.

"Okay," the man said and lunged at Matthew without warning. Matthew jumped back a few paces, almost stumbling when he got off the mat, and instinctively ducked, his hand reaching for his boot, for his knife, and just managed to stop himself before he drew steel on a Brotherhood member.

The instructor laughed.

"Bringing a knife into a fistfight is smart," he said, "but a decent pugilist will liberate you of your blade in a second. Besides, this isn't the point of this lesson."

The instructor motioned for Matthew to come back on the mat and Matthew did that and uncomfortably assumed the same stance.

"Okay, I'm just going to punch you – not very hard – and you try to block it."

Matthew was torn between wanting to get swallowed up by the mat and just going to town on the instructor, and then the grinning Brotherhood folk around him. 'How the hell do I block?' he thought before he saw the first jab coming in. He tried swatting it away like a fly, but the move was clumsy and it landed on his left shoulder.

"Okay..." the instructor said, hesitating for a moment, "it's supposed to be more like this..."

Matthew spent the next fifteen minutes receiving most basic introductory course in hand-to-hand fighting and then awkwardly trying to deflect blows. He found he was completely and utterly hopeless at it.

The teacher finally dismissed him and called up another one of his students and Matthew's humiliation was over with. As he returned to the rest of the attendants he decided to concentrate more on somehow getting what he came here to acquire and getting out instead of getting to know the Brotherhood.

Bill laughed his ass off when he came to Matt's room that evening and Matthew told him about the day he had. Matthew was never particularly athletic, or artistic for that matter, and he wasn't exactly at the top of the food chain in the vault, thus humiliation during P.E. and art classes was something he learnt to deal with. As Bill slowly winded down from his laughter attack he realized it was weird that this particular humiliation wanted him to knock someone's teeth out – not that he could, apparently. He'd probably changed a lot more than he thought.

He leaned back on his bed and considered asking Bill about Mariposa, the place he was almost completely sure the Mutants came from, just to get the answers he was looking for – or a bullet in the head – so he could move on.

He decided against it.

"You're an Initiate under probation, by the way," Bill finally informed him. "And the Elders apparently agreed on this faster than they could decide on... well, anything that I can recall."

"What does it mean?"

"That you'll have to take a couple of tests before you can make it to proper Initiate," Bill shrugged. "Just a formality."

Matthew sighed and nodded. There was silence for a couple of seconds.

"You don't seem that eager to join," Bill noted.

Matthew shrugged.

"Not that I really knew _anything_ about the Brotherhood coming in," and then he saw a chance. "And I figured there was no place safer than here with all those super mutants moving around. Did you know they took over Necropolis?"

"Shit, really?" Bill cursed. "Yeah, it's _safe,_ I suppose," he just said.

"You suppose?"

"The Elders already decided on a course of action regarding the mutants," he explained, visibly irritated, "which is to stick our heads up our asses and wait until it blows over," he chuckled. "Security's getting tighter every day, patrols are fewer and further in -between.. I'm just hopin' I get a chance to be sent off somewhere before anything happens."

"You'd rather be somewhere else than here if that happens?"

Bill sighed, then chuckled.

"It's messed up, I know, but... yeah, I'd rather be out there. Being locked up in a bunker, safe as it may be, sounds like a bad idea to me. I don't know if I could take it. I mean, I can barely take the other members here some days," he laughed. "It's fucked up, like I said. They're all callous opportunists who only look after themselves up there, but they're honest, and they're practical, not ponderous and paranoid. If I had to face the super mutants I'd rather do it up there than here. At least you can run away up there. At least... well, it's like the folks up there are... smarter, more savvy. The Elders here can't agree on anything, and I know the people on the surface constantly fight, but they're not as diluted as the folks here."

He looked up at Matthew.

"It's fucked up, right?" he asked.

Matthew frowned and smirked.

"That's more or less what I've been thinking as well," the vault dweller said. "It seemed fucked up to me too, at first, but... after coming out of the vault, I was kind of put off by some of the wastelanders I met, but in time... I found I had more to talk about with them than other people from the vault."

"Yay," Bill mock-cheered, "I'm not _that_ crazy."

"Uh, you've got appointments tomorrow," the Knight said after a few seconds in silence. "A test in the main Library in Level 3 at 0800 hours, a medical at 1200 after the test, and then Rhombus wants to see you at 1400."

"Wonderful," Matthew sighed.

"Like I said, just a formality," Bill encouraged him, "you'll ace them!"

"Hopefully," he sounded unconvinced.

Bill got up and was almost out of the room when he stopped and turned back, a mischievous smile on his face.

"Just try to make it to the day past tomorrow," he said ominously. "I'll have cooked something _really_ nice as a way of sayin' thank you by then."


	32. Aim, Part Two

Lost Hills Bunker

2161-04-23 08:47 AM

Almost an hour into his test Matthew had concluded several things.

First of all, he hated classrooms. He remembered that he didn't mind going to school in the vault, but then again he was a pretty antisocial kid back then and school was one of the few things he had. The Brotherhood of Steel's library, which doubled as a computerized classroom, was a bit more chaotic than the rest of the Brotherhood, with more exposed wiring, ragged and worn chairs and even open cases with books and binders by the walls, but it did little to abate his irritation. There was something about having to go back to school after shooting up bandits and super-mutants in the desert that he found intolerable.

Second of all, he hated tests. In the wasteland, you had real problems and _whether_ you solve them and _how_ you solve them determined whether you're going to be alive and well, or wounded or killed. Something about being bombarded with a hundred questions on the computer screen, and all of them very theoretical and ranging wildly in subject, felt like a mockery to him. Even more infuriating was that all of them were open questions, requiring him to type in a detailed answer, or a solution when it came to mathematical problems – which aggravated the fact that he didn't even understand some of the more technical terms used in some of the questions. He'd skimmed through the questions and answered the ones about hot water burns, arterial lesions and improper diet damage easily, but the questions about logical processor loopholes and de-harmonising Neptunium impellers were far beyond him, as seemed to be the case with about two thirds of the questions. Either all Brotherhood initiates had several doctorates or the Brotherhood was just fucking with him.

Finally, he concluded, for the umpteenth time, that he really didn't like the Brotherhood. Maybe it was because of his bruised ego, Matthew allowed, but he believed that even without that entire hand-to-hand lesson debacle he would've found himself quite miserable if he stayed here for any longer period of time.

The console locked automatically at 1130 hours just as the Initiates were dismissed from the lesson. Vree, the Head Scribe, approached the console and pushed a few buttons and the test disappeared entirely with a 'file sent' notification. Matthew found he liked Vree. The woman was strange-looking, even by wasteland standards, with her hair shaved off clean, except for a patch at the back of her head where it was long enough for her to tie it into a pony-tail, and her small glasses, but the woman, who carried herself as if she was in no hurry, radiated calm and wisdom, and even her voice and manner of talking were somehow soothing. He asked her if he could hang around the library now that his test was over and she agreed. He couldn't really say how thankful he was.

He immediately did a search on everything the Brotherhood knew of the super mutants. Most of it were reports on the aftermath of several skirmishes in the wasteland, and it put his mind at ease knowing that the Brotherhood was decidedly _not_ on good terms with them. A voice at the back of his head offered him that it could all be fabricated but he silenced it, attributing it to his growing irritation concerning the organization. A file he found very interesting and really helpful was a report of an autopsy performed on a super mutant by Vree herself.

In the report, the Head Scribe pointed out the odd properties of the mutant's body and particularly the DNA, the latter being an almost perfect match to what the FEV virus he found out about in the Glow did to animals. He could conclude without doubt that super mutants were a result of humans being infected with a strain of FEV, which as he knew, was developed in Mariposa.

Also interesting was Vree's find that the super mutants were sterile. That made a lot of sense to Matthew, given Set's explanation that super mutants were interested in abducting people, particularly those who haven't been exposed to radiation for very long. They needed to replenish their ranks some way, and this little piece of information explained it all.

The Head Scribe had left for lunch halfway through Matthew reading the autopsy report and he was left alone. 'No time like the present,' he thought. He didn't know if the Brotherhood's superiors were monitoring his activities on the terminal, but if they were and he was about to do something they'd dislike, Matthew would at least have some time to find out what it was before he got dragged away from the console.

He accessed the files the Brotherhood kept on various locations around the wasteland, pretty brief ones lacking in detail, as he found while reading the one about Junktown, and he typed in his search query, 'Mariposa'.

The screen blinked and a second later the words 'Authorisation key required' came up, along with the query for said code.

Matthew leaned back on the chair. Intelligence on Mariposa was restricted. He mulled over the possibilities in his head and the only answer he could come up with was that the Brotherhood, at the very least, knew what went down in Mariposa before the War, and seeing as how they have Vree's mutant autopsy report, it was beyond any doubt that the Brotherhood knew, or at least suspected, that the mutants were coming from Mariposa. And since they restricted that knowledge...

'Shit.'

Perhaps he was right to question the reports on the super mutant attacks.

He powered down the console and left the Library, his head spinning with questions, the most prominent being 'how do I get out of this?'

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-04-25 04:12 PM

"I swear to God, I punched it straight in the face and it barely even flinched!" the soldier said, her eyes wide. "Power armour and power fist and all!"

Matthew nodded. He could believe that.

"What did you do then?" he asked.

"Don't encourage her," Darrel warned.

"I tried kicking it in the nuts, of course!" Matthew chuckled at that. "And, well, I _might_ have panicked at the moment, and there _might_ have been some falling and crawling through the sand involved, but the short version is, I got to my plasma pistol and I shot it between the eyes. And, I swear to God, it took, like, a couple of minutes to die! It started screaming, then it fell down and started trying to get up, and then gave up and died a couple minutes later!"

"So basically you started screaming like a little girl and got lucky in the end," Darrel summarized.

"How many super mutants have _you_ killed, Paladin?" she asked mockingly.

"Three," Darrel shrugged.

"Bullshit."

"Language," the man warned her half-heartedly. "Or you're eating cacti for dinner today. With bare hands."

She looked around.

"Cacti?" she asked innocently. The desert plain around them was bare, barely a dying shrub poking out of the sand.

"Ha-ha, Weathers, don't make me come up with a harsher punishment."

"Like you spoon-feeding her?" Matthew quipped. The soldiers chuckled.

"_Definitely_ worse than eating cacti," Weathers laughed. Darrel rolled his eyes.

It was the second day of their foray and Matthew was already feeling more upbeat and more friendly-disposed towards the Brotherhood. Maybe it was just Darrel, the soldier he met guarding the entrance to the bunker alongside Cabbot, being the leader of this mission and more accepting of informal speech and general shenanigans out on the field, but he felt more at ease now. Especially when he was among people who were trading barbs and teasing each other leisurely as opposed to being among people who spoke in military reports one half of the time and gossiped like vault-dwellers the other half. On the first day on this mission he acted all rigid and official around Darrel just so he wouldn't catch any grief from the man, but he soon found the people were more laid back when out here than in the bunker.

"I see it, sir," one of the Paladins suddenly reported early that evening, looking through his binoculars.

"See anything?"

"No, sir."

Matthew saw it as well, a small gas station a couple kilometres ahead. That was the objective of this mission, his test, as Rhombus put it: a Brotherhood scout failed to meet a scheduled patrol in their usual rendezvous point and the four Paladins and Matthew were sent to investigate. They were now approaching the place the scout mentioned in his previous report as his 'base of operations'.

They stopped twice on their way to the station so they could investigate it with binoculars but saw no signs of trouble.

Darrel took point while Matthew, the only one without power armour, stayed in the rear.

There were remains of a fire-pit in front of the station and segments of rad-scorpion shells scattered about.

"Scorpions," Weathers pointed out somewhat needlessly. Another Paladin opened the station door for Darrel while the officer stepped in and swept the station, his laser rifle in hand, then froze and lowered the weapon.

"Jesus," he muttered.

The Paladins filed in one after another and took off their helmets, with expressions of sorrow and disgust. But mostly the latter.

On the floor of the gas station lie a dead body, naked, and torn almost to shreds. The scorpions had, apparently, nibbled at his hands, feet, and even head, while his gut was eviscerated. Darrel crouched and picked up a couple of dog tags that lie on the floor two steps away.

"Paladin Thomas Henderson," he read under his breath. "Jesus, that's some way to die..."

Matthew looked around.

"He was robbed," he announced. "After he died."

The Paladins looked at him quizzically.

"He's naked," Matthew explained, "but he obviously died from the scorpions. And I don't see his equipment anywhere. There's a fire-pit outside. I think someone came by shortly after he died, killed the scorpions, took his belongings, and had a scorpion barbecue before leaving."

"People eat _scorpions_?" Weathers winced.

"Scorpions, giant ants, mole-rats, you name it," he replied and only then really took in her shocked expression. She's clueless. Much like a vault dweller. He couldn't resist going further, "his body's... relatively intact, though. It's here. So these people don't eat other people, at least," and then added under his breath, "or they might just be scared of the poison."

He looked around him to see the Paladins looking at him with bewilderment, except for Darrel, who just looked distraught.

"We've got our C.O.D.," Matthew pointed out. "Do we keep looking for the equipment?"

Darrel shook himself out of his stupor.

"Affirmative. We cannot allow the wastelanders to keep possession of Brotherhood technology," he almost rolled his eyes as he said that.

"In his last report," the Paladin continued, "Henderson mentioned that some wastelanders have moved in to a bombed-out town not far away," he brought up a map on a device on his power armour wrist, a piece of technology he found out to be a very basic version of a Pip-Boy. "A good place to start, I say."

Two hours later they were entering the town in question. It was a mess of rubble and its current inhabitants huddled around fires burning in metal trash-cans to ward against the cold of the encroaching evening. They were all fighters, Matthew noticed, looking at their faces and the way they held themselves. This was a gang. Most of them wore leather jackets or proper leather armour, and some had worn-looking kevlar vests on. He noticed not many of them had rifles, much less _decent_ rifles, and he saw no ammo bandoleers so the best he could tell, it was an under-equipped gang.

The people regarded them with caution, most inching their hands closer to their hand-guns. A man stepped into the middle of the town's main street in front of the approaching paladins, a bald man with a shiny, seemingly diamond earring, shaved head and a tattoo of a vulture on his forehead. His leather armour was adorned with animal skulls and he held his AK-112 automatic rifle in one hand, pointing down.

"Welcome to our little sanctuary," the man greeted in his coarse voice and smiled, "how can we help you, mister..."

By the way he held himself, with confidence bordering on cockiness, Matthew concluded that he was the leader.

"We're looking for stolen Brotherhood equipment," Darrel replied dryly. "What do you know about the gas station south of here?"

"A gas station?" the man asked and stroked his chin dramatically. "No, I'm afraid I don't know of any gas stations south of here, friend," then he extended his hand. "They call me Deathsight. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"A standard-issue Brotherhood Wattz 2000 Laser Rifle as well as a set of standard-issue of T-51b Power Armour under-suit, A.K.A. Recon Armour, priorly issued to the diseased, are missing, alongside a number of other items. _All_ items, to be precise. As a Paladin with the Brotherhood of Steel I demand that you submit to a thorough search of the missing equipment."

The smile on Deathsight's face died slowly.

"Now, now, buddy, I'm really sorry about your diseased friend, but we're no thieves, no need to bother us, right? We'd tell you if we'd seen anything."

"Do you refuse to comply with our demands?"

Deathsight froze for a moment then scratched his nose and took a glance at his comrades.

"This is power armour you see before you," Matt suddenly spoke up, then turned his head at the man's underlings. "When you see his signal to open fire on us remember that what few bullets you have in your hand-guns won't do you any good against it, and the energy weapons involved."

Deathsight proved he at least had a very deadly glare when Matthew looked back upon the man. 'He's going to give the signal,' Matthew suddenly realized. The man snapped his fingers and brought up his rifle the same moment Matthew jumped left and the paladins opened fire with their energy weapons. He drew his gun and hastily shot a man who was about to aim at him, standing between Matthew and an overturned metal table he could take cover behind. He got him just below the throat and dove for cover, taking a second to make sure none of the locals they passed before getting to Deathsight were going to participate in this fight.

Then he noticed it was quiet.

He peaked out from behind the cover.

The fight was over.

He walked out from behind his cover, disquieted.

Over a dozen men decided to draw guns on them. They had the Paladins surrounded. The Paladins shot them down within seconds, and it didn't look like they moved an inch.

Some of the assailants have taken cover behind heaps of trash or other overturned metal tables. All of their covers had fresh holes in them and a dead body behind them. Lasers and plasma bolts made short work of them.

"Get out here in the open or we're shooting at random!" Darrel exclaimed. A minute later the rest of the gangers were out of their cover, hands over their heads.

"Guns on the ground and get into a line! The sooner you comply, the sooner we're going to go away!"

Matthew realized he was still holding his pistol in his hand and put it back in its holster.

"You look scared, _wastelander,_" Darrel observed, his voice still sounding teasing even when spoken through the crappy loudspeakers on the outside of his helmet.

"I am," Matthew nodded. "You people are _really_ scary."

* * *

><p>Lost Hills Bunker<p>

2161-04-28 09:12 PM

"We killed them all, of course," Bill chuckled. "Before the Elder's death it was all kind of 'fun and games', you could say, no one really took the Vipers as a threat. But after _that_, there was an all-out _campaign_ against them, and they say that barely any of 'em survived."

'Steven and Sophia and the others should have been here today,' Matthew thought. 'Barring any delays. And I'm still kind of stuck here, and they up there.'

"It's all kind of stupid, of course," Bill continued. "They were kind of right to not take the Vipers, armed with bows and spears, as a threat to power-armour wielding soldiers with energy weapons. Maxson just got cocky and the Brotherhood got butthurt and decided to go after them all."

'Weathers and Darrel told a lot of stories about their encounters with the super mutants out there. Reports they can maybe fabricate, but _that_?'

"But what I'm trying to say is: yeah, the Brotherhood has the strongest armed forces around, and we might be kind of difficult to predict, seeing as how we barely talk to anyone from the outside, but it's not like we're _that_ big a presence out there."

'I doubt I will be able to access the computers and get Mariposa's location just by becoming Initiate. And I need to do something _now,_' he took a sip of the old wine he'd swiped from that old town back in the wasteland. 'Goddamnit, am I just too afraid to go ahead and ask them? I mean, _clearly_ they're not on the mutants' side...'

"But I think I know what you're talking about. Well, theoretically. You got out of the vault and started wandering the wastes, learning about life up here, because it's... different. I had to do that too, the first time I was sent out, and I was eager to do that. I even started taking pride in knowing how things worked up there and being able to pass for a regular wastelander. _Hell_, I'm proud of it even now! But what I'm trying to say is, I get it that the Brotherhood scares you. Here you are, wandering the wastes, becoming savvy about their ways, and suddenly you discover a powerful, secretive force like the Brotherhood. It's a game-changer. It makes you look at the wasteland from a different perspective, and it does it all suddenly, when you think you know all there is to know about the world. An unexpected, irritating variable. And I think it's why you're so uncomfortable with the Brotherhood," he looked up at Matthew. "Sounds about right?"

'And hell, they have _such_ fire-power! Even if I just get the location secretly and run away, what can just the three of us do? Then again, if I can convince the Brotherhood to take up arms...'

"Matt!" Bill snapped his fingers in front of his face. "You with me?"

The vault dweller looked at the other man, startled, and then shook his head.

"Yeah, sorry."

"What's on your mind?" the man asked, looking genuinely concerned.

'Shit, why not take a leap? This stupid ant-mutant mission was a death sentence from the start, a hopeless one, why not take a chance?'

"Remember how I saved you life?" Matthew asked. Bill nodded, confused. "Well, I'm probably going to need to cash out right now. And just as a side note, I _hate_ doing that. So I'm going to need you to not kill me or report me or something if some of the things I'm about to say... uh, cause concern."

"Shit, I thought this conversation was _already_ way too serious," Bill attempted at humour.

Matthew took a deep breath.

"What do you know about Mariposa?"

Bill looked even more confused than before.

"Mariposa? Why would you ask about _that_?"

"For a very serious reason, trust me. And because the files regarding it are all restricted."

"Okay," Bill looked at the floor for a moment, "it's not top secret stuff or anything, but I can get in _serious_ trouble for this, so don't you breathe a word about this to _anyone. _I mean, it's not a secret in the Brotherhood itself, but they get sort of touchy about non-members knowing. Superstition, I guess. And maybe caution."

Matthew nodded, suddenly feeling distraught at the serious expression on the cheerful man's face.

The Knight sighed.

"Mariposa is where the Brotherhood comes from."

Oh shit, his fears are all coming true.

"Our founder was a soldier there," Bill continued, "protected the scientists. Days before the war they found out that the scientists were doing some biological experiments, using other people as test subjects. The soldiers killed the scientists and defaulted. A couple days later the War happened. A couple more days later, the soldiers and their families that moved into the base when they defaulted just left, sealed the whole thing and travelled here, founding the Brotherhood."

"The Brotherhood doesn't... _do anything_ in Mariposa these days?"

"As far as I can tell they haven't set foot there in decades. It's sort of sacred, you know?"

"Why are the files on that place classified, then?"

"Morale, probably," Bill shrugged. "It's kind of our order's birthplace, but... it's a place where a lot of bad things happened. I mean, I don't know what it was exactly because I'm not that curious, but if they were doing some crazy experiments on humans there... Our founder, Maxson, never spoke of it, but some of his comrades did. The Scribes put down their descriptions on what was happening there, but most found it distasteful, or... sacrilegious to just put all the gory facts where everyone could see. Thus, the restriction."

Relief flooded through Matthew and a whole mess of gears started spinning around in his head.

"I suppose now you want me to give you it's location?" Bill asked carefully. "Because, honestly, I don't know where it is and I doubt I could get it."

"That won't be necessary," the vault dweller cut him off. He looked at the Knight, who looked a lot like a hurt puppy at that moment and winced. "I needed to find out what connection the Brotherhood had to the place. And to super mutants. I'm convinced now that you're certainly not friendly towards them."

"_Hell_ no... Why?"

"I'm sort of on a mission to put them down..."

"So that's why you joined the Brotherhood..." Bill looked away, thoughtful, then back at him. "What does Mariposa have to do with it, though?"

Matthew inhaled.

"It's the source."

Bill's eyebrows climbed up almost all the way to his hairline and his mouth opened just a little bit. Maybe out of remorse, Matthew decided to tell him all about it there and then, about both of his departures from the vault, about the mission Jacoren gave the three of them, the things they found out in the Glow, and then Vree's autopsy record. All the evidence that pointed at Mariposa.

By the end of it, Bill's gaze was fixed on the ground, thoughtful.

"So, uh, I suppose that now that I know about Mariposa, I should talk to Rhombus..." Matthew attempted.

The Knight chuckled.

"You're one crazy sonuvabitch, you know that?" he looked up and he was smiling. "Deciding to defeat the super mutants all by yourself... and with two vault dwellers."

Matthew shrugged.

"They killed a friend of mine. And yes, it's a pretty hopeless fight, but... it's hard to explain. We can't really do anything else. We could try settling down, but we're still worried about our home, especially now that I know that they're actively searching for vaults, and... I don't think the other two could really function without some specific goal in their minds. At least not for now."

"You could?" Bill smirked and Matthew just shrugged indifferently in response. "You know, you're an even crazier sunovabitch for wanting to talk to Rhombus about that," he stood up. "Let's go find Vree. She'll get what you're saying. And Rhombus respects her, if she says you're right, he'll come around too. And you need both of them and preferably the Head Knight on your side if you want the Elders to decide to do something worthwhile about this."

Matthew nodded, a small smile creeping up on his face. He stood up and followed Bill.

"Just so you know," Matthew said uncomfortably when they were in the elevator, "I _really_ hated pulling out the 'I saved you life' card back there."

The Knight chuckled.

"I'm glad you did. It's for the greater good. And if this turns out to be something that urges the Elders to do something other than bury their heads in the sand even deeper, I'm still in your debt."

* * *

><p>Lost Hills Bunker<p>

2161-04-30 03:12 PM

He spent the night in the library, where they found Vree, of course, as the woman read all the reports and went over Matthew's story twice. The woman was as even-tempered as before, though Matthew couldn't help but notice how her brow was slightly creased the whole time. The vault dweller knew the Brotherhood had a strange, idealistic streak to it – that's probably why their ridiculous mission statement came to be – and the source of the mutants being their ancient home put Vree under stress. Or not, Matthew thought, she probably wasn't as superstitious as some of her colleagues, but she knew how hard it was going to be to talk to them about this matter.

Bill stayed in the library all through the night as well, standing further aside and watching them.

Vree left to find the Head Paladin and Knight in the morning and Matthew went to bed, to be awakened three hours later and urged into Level 4 by Rhombus, who was looking particularly stern.

"So, you lied," he pointed out in the elevator.

"Yeah," he replied quietly. "Can't blame me for being careful, though. And it's for a good reason."

Rhombus shuffled on his power-armoured feet uncomfortably.

"You lied. That ain't right. But Vree says you found out where those mutants come from, and if you're right, all is forgiven."

Matthew was getting sick of the whole matter by the time he had to repeat the entire story again to the audience of four Elders and the High Elder. The Elders asked questions about some parts of the story, several times, testing his patience. The High Elder just sat there, his lips pursed, looking all business.

He took another nap afterwards, having been told not to leave the room and wait for a reply.

He was woken up six hours later when the High Elder Maxson walked into his room.

"Just wanted to say: it's good to see people like you these days," the man said, a smile slowly blooming on his face. "Good to see people with _balls_."

The High Elder was old, older than that hand-to-hand instructor, but seemed even more vigorous, with that same spark in his eyes. Matthew mumbled drowsy thank-yous.

"I don't know what those bone-headed 'Elders' are gonna decide," Maxson said, "but you have my support. It's about time we took the fight to those mutants!"

He then slept some more since he had nothing else to do and took another lengthy shower, thinking he might not be so lucky as to have another one soon.

Maybe it's good that he waited, Matthew thought. Before coming clean. It might have caused him discomfort, but he got to know the Brotherhood, and somehow this put his mind a bit more at ease.

He remembered Bill saying something about his strange dislike of the organisation, but Matthew wasn't really listening and couldn't remember.

Vree visited as well, inquiring further about the information on super mutant motives he'd learnt from Set and mentioned before. The best he could do was repeat that conversation more or less verbatim. She wasn't frowning this time, concentrating completely on her work. It put his mind at ease a little.

Bell entered a minute after Vree left.

"Sooo... Rhombus wants to speak with you."

"Is he pissed?"

"Always," the Knight laughed.

The Head Paladin looked pretty pissed indeed when the door to his office opened and he motioned Matthew to come inside.

"Come in," the man said in his army-drillmaster voice. "You too, Knight Mason, this concern you as well."

"Uh-oh," Bill said under his breath and flashed a smile.

"So," he began as Matt sat down and Mason stood beside him, "the Elders have reached a decision," he informed them, spitting out the word 'Elders'. "They have agreed that something must be done about the mutants in Mariposa Military Base. However, it is their belief that a cautious approach is the wisest at this time," his eyes flashed with anger. "I was tasked with assembling a scouting team to assess the situation."

"That's rubbish!" Bill spat. "I don't know if the Brotherhood is capable of taking on the mutants in their lair _now_, but we sure as hell won't be if they catch us snooping around."

Rhombus looked at him with irritation and sighed in a way that sounded like he'd given up hope the Knight would stop speaking out of turn.

"A lot of things could happen that would turn a scouting force into an assault force," Rhombus said ominously.

"We can't assault their home base with four Paladins and hope to win!"

"Three Paladins," Rhombus corrected. "Accompanied by a knight in power armour to better assess their defences," he threw a meaningful look at Bill, "and an Initiate," he threw the look to Matthew, "without power armour."

"Bullshit," Bill cursed under his breath and this time Rhombus almost said something harsh to him, but Matthew spoke up first.

"I suspect you wouldn't send your men to that base to die without some sort of a plan."

Rhombus regarded Matthew with suspicion, looking him up and down, deciding whether or not it was worth it to trust the man with his thoughts.

"All of the mutant patrols we've encountered," he began slowly, "consisted mostly of unarmed fighters accompanied by one or two with big guns or energy weapons. These are the patrols that, it turns out, protect the area around their main base of operations. It is our belief that, despite being naturally formidable opponents, they do not have the arms to match their weapons, and/or that most of they what they have is dedicated to their more offensive efforts. Which leads me to believe that when outnumbered by these creatures in close quarters, with most of them unarmed, a strike force could survive if they can shoot them down before they overwhelm them. Which means we need more firepower."

"But if the Elders gave the order to assemble a scouting squad then it can't be more than just the four people... five, in this instance!" Bill pointed out.

"Unless we get some outside help."

Rhombus allowed a second for the words to sink in.

"They wouldn't have power armour, and probably energy weapons, neither," the Knight opined. "Some of the bigger guns, maybe."

"I hear some mercenaries from the Hub managed to go on the offensive against the mutants and win."

"I hear the Hub is in trouble as it is."

"We only barely managed," Matthew butted in. "With heavy casualties. And Bill's right, Hub's in a bad shape. It's unlikely you can make them an offer good enough for them to agree taking on the mutants over, at least without giving up some of your more advanced tech as a reward."

"Which isn't gonna happen," Bill pointed out. "And, at least as far as I know, the Brotherhood does not stock up on bottle-caps."

"When these decisions were made," Rhombus replied, "the High Elder gave me permission to use our conventional firearms reserve as I see fit. The other Elders didn't question this decision. As I understand, the High Elder wants me to hire additional troops using these weapons. It's all I can offer. That's why I needed to talk to you," he leaned forward towards Matthew. "Do you know of anyone on the surface who could take us up on this offer, if we can pay twice the price what it would usually cost in firearms?"

Matthew's mind drifted through all the places he'd been to trying to come up with something: Shady Sands – no, Junktown – no, the Hub – unlikely, Necropolis – not there anymore, other places – he thought about it for a few seconds – barring Nevada Rangers, no.

He once kind of optimistically thought the Brotherhood would be the correct answer if someone asked him this question.

"Nevada Rangers, maybe, but they're scattered and far away, and I don't know how to contact them," Matthew finally said. "The Hub is tricky..."

Remembering Nevada Rangers made him think of Tycho, and thoughts of Tycho made him remember Tabitha.

"There are these friends of yours coming over," Bill offered while Matthew was thinking.

"Yeah, two more former vault dwellers," Matthew nodded. "But they're not coming alone, but with a huge caravan from the Hub; should be here any day now."

"We can't expect to hire _caravan guards_ from underneath a _caravan_!"

"No, but one person on it is a grade-A mercenary with business to settle with the mutants, and the other is a Nevada Ranger. If nothing else, they're the only hope we have of finding anyone that would help us."

"Fine," Rhombus sighed, though it was barely audible. "We'll have a talk to them as soon as they arrive," Matthew nodded his understanding and his heart skipped a beat. "The Elders gave the order to leave within three days, but they never mentioned when the party must get there or return. I'll let you know as soon as that caravan arrives."

Matthew nodded.

"Just to make things clear," Rhombus added, "I don't like this arrangement, but I am convinced that unless the Elders decide to take on a more active approach, we must resort to having outsiders fight our battles for us."

"Won't they get torn to shreds without power armour, though?" Bill asked quietly.

"Not if you kill the mutants first," Rhombus shrugged.

"We handled it once..." Matthew looked to the side and sighed. "I guess if there's no other way..."

"It's settled, then."

* * *

><p>Lost Hills Bunker<p>

2161-04-30 09:22 PM

'Well this is awkward.'

Matthew was sat in one of the shower booths only in his underwear as Bill crouched behind him, cutting his hair.

The vault dweller spent the evening telling the Knight about his companions from the first time he left the vault – the full version this time – and Bill assured him that if he handles the situation properly, they can still get them on their side, even if they did have a chip on their shoulder about Matthew not so much as stopping by. And then he decided the vault dweller needed to at least look decent for the occasion.

"Hey, do you know how many times my sexy curls saved my ass when I was in trouble my gun couldn't solve?" the Knight laughed. "Don't underestimate the power of looking good!"

And so it was that Matthew was getting a haircut on the bathroom floor, because the Brotherhood sure as hell did not have a barber shop.

"You can cut hair?"

"Yeah, learnt it from watching my mom when she was little."

"Which order do hairdressers belong to?" Matthew chuckled.

"Knights. All those little things anyone can do but not everyone really wants to – they're done by the Knights. What's why when you choose to be a Scribe or a Paladin they can turn you down, but the Knights won't. Knights cut hair, mend clothes, manage the storerooms, order Initiates around while they're mopping the floors and changing the sheets... We're versatile."

"A while ago you mentioned that Knights were technicians-slash-scouts and I thought it sounded weird," Matthew chuckled, "but now it seems it you're weirder than I thought."

"We are men of many talents."

He kind of missed this, these conversations he could only have with other vault dwellers – about everything and nothing. Not like it was impossible to have them with wastelanders – Ian, Tabitha and he shared stories of their childhood by the fire once – but it was different here, in the comfort of a civilized subterranean shelter.

"Sorry I got you in trouble with Rhombus," Matthew said after a while.

"Trouble? I'm in trouble? I didn't notice."

"You didn't notice how you're going to Mariposa?"

Bill sighed.

"It's not because I helped with this whole endeavour. They just don't like me in general. That's why I get sent to work away from the Bunker."

"Oh... That sucks."

"I don't mind," he shrugged, "prefer it, even."

"Why don't they like you?"

The Knight's hands stopped for a second as he considered the question.

"Long story," he replied dryly. "Suffice to say that if you don't always agree with the Elders and are fool enough to be loud about it, or if you generally have values different than what the Brotherhood expects of you, you end up on their shit-list. Like Darrel and Cabbot, or me."

"Rhombus and Vree don't look like they see eye to eye with the elders as well."

"Vree is way too diplomatic, apathetic towards politics, and way, _way _too smart to just disregard. And actually, this is the first time Rhombus disagreed with the Elders, as far as I've heard."

"Sounded like there was some bad blood there, from how he spoke."

"He just doesn't half-ass things," Bill chuckled. "When he's angry, he's _really_ angry."

"And he's always angry."

"No, when he's not angry he's angry, and when he's angry he's _angry_," Bill giggled. "Comes with the job, I guess."

Matthew's haircut was finished and he was left alone to shave the beard. He looked at his image in the mirror and saw a weathered, tired man older than he actually was. Without any hair on his face the wrinkles around his eyes seemed even more pronounced. Maybe it was a mistake to shave it all off.

And maybe he shouldn't be bothered by such nonsense.

Stupid vaultie vanity.

He chuckled at the mirror and went to bed, trying to find words appropriate enough to excuse his stupidity in what he did to Tycho and Tabitha.


	33. Exhale

Lost Hills Bunker

2161-05-01 03:34 PM

It was only a small lie, all things considered, but he decided that it had grown into something large, obstructive and rather ridiculous.

So he felt indebted to Tabitha, Tycho and Ian. So he felt unworthy of them accompanying him to the Watershed, especially considering how that ended. So he parted ways with them. So he still left the vault and decided not to meet up with them. He felt indebted to them, though the more he considered it, the more and more was he inclined to believe that the three had made him feel weak and pitiful by comparison, always needing help and guidance.

They told him that was okay, that they didn't mind helping. Hell, all things considered he realized that what he had with those people was a pretty damn strong friendship. He probably could've just travelled back to the Hub and hooked up with them again after leaving the vault again.

But no, he didn't want to be that weak, needy person any more. Maybe because he thought himself to be better than he actually was because he was the one to bring back the water chip to the vault; not that he could take all credit for that – not even half of it, really. Maybe for a moment he felt like he was the most skilled and reliable person in the entire vault dweller trio. He didn't want to feel weak and needy and like a leech again, so he lied. As if no longer with them would turn him into someone else, someone strong.

He lied to Sophia and Steven about how he parted with his comrades. Then he hid away in the slums of the Hub during their two visits there like he was an outlaw, all because he couldn't face them, and himself. And while there was some weight to the argument that Matt didn't want to be a drag to his surviving comrades any more, a better man would've come up to them regardless and offered to help them, not set out on some stupid anti-mutant quest. Maybe they wouldn't have even thought any less about him. Maybe he could've given them back at least a part of what he owed. But no, he hid away because he felt weak and ashamed. It was rather pitiful, really.

Bill told him he'd figure out how to approach them again and not to worry. Indeed, the Knight even told him that considering the sort of people the wastlanders are, they probably wouldn't even blink if he just walked up to them, said hi, and acted like nothing happened. But he was still restless all through the night, conjuring up scenarios of how the meeting could go one after another. When Rhombus summoned him that afternoon and told him they were heading topside to meet his friends – who were already here – he felt nervous and apprehensive. He still had no idea how to handle this and just prayed that it would turn out that he was being paranoid and this was all not a big deal. Wastelanders, he kept telling himself, they are wastelanders and they don't really care.

He stepped out of the bunker behind Rhombus and took in the mercenaries gathered before them. Four he did not recognise – the ginger one, the one with the curly hair, the big, bald one, and the woman who looked like she couldn't even hold a gun right – though he could've sworn he'd seen them before somewhere. Keri was there, and she narrowed her eyes and smirked when she saw Matthew. Tycho had a warm yet somehow muted smile on his face when he saw the vault dweller, though Matt's heart skipped when he saw the burns on the man's face and his lack of desert ranger apparel. Finally, there was Tabitha, who looked at him impassively, her expression schooled and her eyes sharp. Matthew sighed inwardly. Looks like at least one of his friends would have a problem with him, and it's the one he really didn't want to have trouble with. He cast Steven and Sophia brief glances to make sure they were okay and that was when Rhombus spoke up, summing up the situation and presenting his offer.

"Initiate Coyle here has confirmed to us that the super mutants are not born but mutated by infecting vault dwellers with a pre-war virus called the F.E.V.," the man stated. "We have strong evidence that this virus is being stored in Mariposa military base and we are organizing an attack on that location. However, it was decided that we should probably request outside help. We have a large supply of conventional firearms that we are willing to offer as compensation for you and we're looking to strike a deal here."

Silence fell between the mercenaries and Matt and Rhombus.

"Super mutants... are mutated vault dwellers?" Sophia finally asked, confused.

"Not exactly," Matthew spoke up, his voice almost breaking as all eyes fell upon him. He looked at Sophia and replied solely to her. "Vault dwellers are the mutants' preferred targets, though they're not against dipping regular wastelanders in the virus. They refer to the vault dwellers as 'pure' and 'untainted', which probably refers to the fact that their DNA is not mutated like that of the surface dwellers. It is possible that this either makes the transition to a super mutant smoother or that the mutant created from a vault dweller is... well, stronger."

It wasn't exactly his area of expertise but it was close enough, and it gave Matthew some comfort to be talking about this.

"So what you're asking is," the ginger-haired man started, looking at the two men distrustfully, "for us to accompany you to where these mutants are made? Into their very home? The nine of us?"

"With three Paladins, a Knight and Initiate Coyle here, yes," Rhombus confirmed.

"This is crazy," the man retorted bluntly and addressed Tabitha. "This is crazy, right? We're not doing this."

Tabitha looked back at the man and then at Rhombus, then Matthew, looking torn. The merc noticed the hesitation and bristled. Tabitha looked at Keri expectantly and the man turned his attention to her as well.

"Keri?" he prompted. "Come on, this is suicide, and it's not like we desperately need more firearms."

"Besides," the unfamiliar woman with a visibly aching bandages shoulder added, "our task is to finish this caravan drive. We ought to be headed for Necropolis, not off to some godforsaken ruin to face off those monstrosities. Also – my shoulder. And my overdue medical treatment."

"Necropolis has been destroyed," Matthew informed them bluntly. "I was just there. All of the ghouls are either dead or they ran away. Super mutants have taken control of the settlement. Them and the Children of the Cathedral."

"The Children?" the curly-haired man exclaimed, incredulous. "Are you actually saying that the Children, in league with the super mutants, destroyed Necropolis?"

"Yes," Matthew remained calm.

Most of the folks gathered before him just looked at him in shock, not quite able to digest the news so quickly. A few moments later, Tabitha threw Keri an expectant look. Matthew understood that the woman wanted Demetre's daughter to be in control of this situation in order to help her slip into her eventual role more easily, but it sort of drove him crazy not knowing what she was thinking.

"There's Children in the Hub, and Junktown as well," Keri finally replied. "And the mutants are on the move. They'd already started circling around the Hub some time ago, and the Hub is ripe for the taking – weak from all the infighting. If they make their move on us now, we'll be defenceless. Hell, even if the fucking Jackals make a move on we'll be pretty fucked. So I say we make a pre-emptive strike."

Tabitha's lip twitched and she almost smiled for a second there, but managed to hold it back and look at the two men before her impassively. Matthew didn't miss it though.

"Seriously?" the ginger-haired man cursed, outraged. "We're doing this?" the he looked at Tabitha, "you're alright with this?"

Tabitha looked at Keri and then back at him.

"She's right, you know."

"I'm not forcing anyone to tag along," Keri stated. "You don't want in, you say so and you're not in."

"Not in," the unfamiliar woman said immediately. The ginger man's gaze darted between Keri and Tabitha, then to the bulky man.

"Swinger?" he asked.

The bulky man looked back at him with a stunned look on his face.

"The mutants want to kill us. We should kill them first," the man stated and shrugged.

The merc closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his hand shaking a little.

"Right," he said quietly and opened his eyes. "Right. Let's get this over with."

"You sure?" Keri asked.

The man frowned and nodded.

"Do I dick around?"

Tabitha chuckled and almost said something. Keri just smiled and nodded back.

"Everyone else?" she asked.

Tabitha just shrugged in reply and then nodded slightly. Tycho and the curly-haired man gave her twin nods, self-assured and firm. Keri's eyes fell on Steven and Sophia and she chuckled.

"Right," she murmured, then turned to Rhombus and spoke up, "right. Let's talk numbers."

* * *

><p>Lost Hills Bunker<p>

2161-05-01 03:34 PM

The unfamiliar woman with the wounded shoulder, Morgan, put up a bit of a fight, refusing to sit with a thumb up her ass and a bullet in her shoulder outside of the bunker while the others 'go hiking'. Matt and Rhombus excused themselves for a moment and retreated further away to come up with some way Morgan could stay at the bunker without the others making much of a fuss. Tabitha, meanwhile, dragged Keri away from the others in an identical manner. Matthew saw that and sighed.

"The girl with the funny hair is the only child of the man who runs Crimson Caravans," he informed the Head Paladin. "And Tabitha over there is most likely trying to talk her out of coming with us. And she'll most likely succeed."

"Two people, then," Rhombus huffed. "The Elders will catch wind of the fact that I hired wastelanders quite soon. It'll be too late for them to do anything, but allowing two strangers to stay in the bunker... We have a small room to the side of Level One where we operate on wastelanders that come with the caravans if they arrive badly wounded and offer them a place to stay if they arrive during an attack, but I have no excuse to keep the both of them there while you march to Mariposa and back."

"You need a lie, then," Matthew shrugged. "Tyring to establish diplomatic relationships? Gathering intel on the Super Mutants? Keri's a pretty influential figure in the Hub and there's a number of reasons you can have her stay here for a while. Including her having taken part in a successful mutant hunt."

"We might be able to work something out. I'll consult Vree, we're on the same page about this," he said and then muttered, "for once."

The Head Paladin retreated into the elevator and disappeared, leaving Matthew alone in the company of his old friends and a couple of strangers. With Keri and Tabitha still talking quite animatedly it was Tycho who approached Matthew first.

"You've seen better days," Matthew greeted tightly, in what he hoped was a neutral tone. The ranger looked ragged and it was more than just the scars on his face, but also his pale skin and bloodshot eyes. "Good to see you're still alive, though," the ranger nodded and smiled just a little as they shook hands. "What happened?"

"Super mutants," the ranger replied just as neutrally. "Took over a small town outside of the Hub. Went in to drive them out and..."

"Did you succeed? In driving them out, I mean."

Tycho shuffled uncomfortably and looked out to the wasteland as if he was holding an unpleasant memory back from resurfacing.

"No."

Matthew looked the ranger up and down again, noticing his slightly shaking hands and knees and the look of queasiness on his face.

"They pumped you full of morphine afterwards?" he asked quietly. The ranger's gaze returned to him.

"Yeah."

"Got the shakes? I think I could help a bit with that..."

"It's fine," Tycho shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. "I'm almost completely over it."

Matthew smiled.

"You were always strong-willed. The chem addiction never stood a chance."

Tycho smiled and nodded, appreciating the compliment, and his gaze drifted to the wasteland once again, looking slightly angry and regretful at the same time. The vault dweller wasn't sure if it was just the chems or if the ranger has been acting weirdly because of something else.

"Sorry I never came to see you after I left the vault again," Matthew somehow managed to squeeze out. Tycho's gaze returned to him slowly. "I know I said would but, but then we had this Mutant mission given to us by the overseer and really had to..." Matthew suddenly stopped talking and closed his eyes. No more lies. "Yeah, I actually don't have a good excuse for that," he admitted and looked at the ranger as if awaiting judgement.

Tycho looked away for a moment, shuffled on his feet and inhaled deeply – obvious signs of displeasure regarding the topic.

"I suppose I get it," he replied, still neutral. "You were never any good at accepting help. Or feeling like a third wheel," he took another deep breath, "and I think you know you've done some things you still have to make up for. In the Hub."

"Yeah, I know," Matt scratched the back of his head and directed his gaze downwards like a scolded child. "I intend to do something about it. I'm sorry."

"It's not me you have to say sorry to. Actually, I don't think you have to say sorry to anyone, especially hubbers, of all people," there was a hint of... contempt? disdain? in his voice that Matthew was surprised to hear. "It's really more about you."

Matthew remembered all the talks they'd had and understood where he was coming from. He looked up at the ranger and was about to say something but the older man's expression gave him pause: he was looking out towards the horizon, frowning. Matthew turned his head to look at the same direction but saw nothing but sand and more sand. Tycho noticed the movement and shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah, uh... Yeah. Never mind all that stuff I said. Um..."

Of all the things he imagined one could see in the whole while world, Tycho the Nevada Desert Ranger being flustered was way too crazy to even be on that list, and that was the last bit of proof the vault dweller needed to conclude beyond any doubt that there was something wrong with the man.

"So... You're on a crusade against the mutants, huh?" Tycho asked, changing the subject rather unsmoothly. "A wonderful coincidence because so are we! Though I'm surprised you feel strongly enough about the cause to even come to the Brotherhood seeking help."

Matthew looked away from the man and towards the two vault dwellers, who were standing by the cart and trying to look bored while actually keeping an eye on everyone for any signs of danger.

"Yeah. Surprised me too," the younger man replied absent-mindedly.

"Not as much as it surprised us, I bet," he heard Tabitha's voice right beside him and turned his head shakily, swallowing. He didn't notice how she finished speaking with Keri and the two women came up to him and Tycho. Keri looked a bit tired and agitated while Tabitha just looked at him with a single eyebrow cocked, amused. "Brotherhood. Wow," she shrugged.

"Figured you'd be too busy," Matthew spat out quickly. "And it was way too dangerous. And it didn't really feel right asking after everything. And I sort of couldn't... invite more... more people in..." he tensed and his speech turned into mumbling as he understood he didn't have a solid excuse and he was about to lie again.

"We were busy mopping up the aftermath of your killing Daren and you still did ask us to do this in the end, just now," Tabitha pointed out, smiling devilishly. "Think you might've bitten off more than you can chew?"

His eyes drifted towards the two vault dwellers and he sighed.

"Whatever..." he mumbled and Tabitha's eyebrow shot up even higher at that. "I mean, I don't care. Not really."

Keri frowned and blinked a couple of times.

"Wait, I'm lost," she said. "What is it you don't really care about?"

Matthew's mind started racing; he knew his answer might set them off again, but then again he didn't really want to lie any more.

"I'm not invested in destroying the super mutants," he admitted. "I just... gain something else by doing that."

Three pairs of eyes looked at him questioningly while he once again looked away towards his comrades.

"I don't get it," Keri admitted, dead-pan.

Tabitha turned her head and followed Matthew's gaze, then turned back again, grinning like the devil.

"Oh my god!" Tabitha laughed. "Seriously?!"

Tycho, Keri and Matthew looked at the woman like she'd grown a third head.

"I get it," she chuckled, but somehow her gaze became sharper, just a little more biting. "I get it. Those two are from your vault, aren't they?" she asked, jerking her head towards Steven and Sophia.

"Yeah."

Tabitha chuckled again, her look, boring into Matthew, conveying many feelings at once: amusement, respect, betrayal, hurt, confusion, anger... Matthew had no idea how his meeting Tabitha again would pan out before, and he still had no idea as it was panning out.

"They were in the Hub... twice..." the ranger pointed out, frowning.

"Yeah, I know," Matthew fidgeted uncomfortably. "And so was I. Like I said, didn't feel like... fuck, I honestly don't really know..."

Silence fell between them, the three wastelanders looking at Matthew expectantly while he struggled with a response that would make sense or at least properly indicate where he think they stood, but honestly...

"I mean it when I say 'I don't know'," he admitted.

Tabitha nodded slowly a couple of times.

"Okay... okay. You were always a little weird. Vaultie sentimentalities and all that," he waved her hand dismissively. "But seeing as how the three of you managed to locate the source of the mutants in the meanwhile, I can't really complain, now can I?"

"You can..." Matthew murmured.

"We have a big fucking battle ahead of us and I would prefer talking about _that_, really."

Matthew looked at her. She seemed to be quite upbeat and even amused at the moment but that sharp edge to her gaze belied that that wasn't the case.

"Yeah, uh... we should probably rejoin the others and talk about that," Matthew opined and the three wastelanders nodded and started towards the rest of the group. Three paces in, Matthew put a hand on Tabitha's shoulder and stopped her. She remained still while Keri and Tycho rejoined the rest of the group and then turned around quickly, looking at Matthew with borderline hostility. He fumbled for a second, concluding with finality that Tabitha was indeed extremely pissed off at him right now, but he really wanted some things to be made perfectly clear right now.

"I want you to tell me the truth," Matthew started, trying to look as serious and in control as possible. "I dragged you out to fight the Khans in Shady Sands and you almost bit my head off. Are we in the same situation right now?"

"No," Tabitha replied firmly.

"Good to know. Now, I know I said I would come back if I decided to leave the vault but I didn't. And you're pissed off at me, aren't you?"

"I don't know..." she replied with uncertainty and shuffled uncomfortably before taking in a deep breath and steadying herself. "I don't know," she repeated firmly, as if challenging Matthew to complain about it.

"And Sophia and Steven? You're not gonna flip at them, are you?"

Tabitha got a murderous glint her eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and replying through gritted teeth.

"No. This one's all you."

Matthew nodded, looking back to the rest of the crew and trying to process the responses. He really wanted to just smack her upside the head and talk it out with her, but it seemed she was determined to hold her piece and simmer. He didn't know if he was more ashamed or frustrated about this.

"Okay," Matthew nodded and walked past her towards the crowd, trying to make sense of the conversation. Trying to understand where she was coming from and what she might do. Trying to put himself in her shoes so he could be able to predict if there was going to be any trouble. He realized he couldn't and he stopped in his tracks two paces ahead of her and turned around, frustration almost turning into anger.

"Just spit it out," he demanded, angrily enough to make Tabitha pause and take half a step back. "You're not the sort of person who gets pissed at people just because of a stupid broken promise! I know I fucked up, but we're so different I don't even have an idea which part of my colossal fuck-up you're actually pissed off about, so please just fucking talk to me!"

And now Matthew thought he was in an insane dream, because after seeing a flustered Tycho he was now treated to the sight of Tabitha Bleu looking hurt, even if just a few seconds. She collected herself quickly, though, and was smirking at him before the hurt look was even registered. Then she just walked by him, giving him a brief explanation, laced with amusement and sarcasm.

"It's not you, it's me," she said.

"You alright?" Matthew heard one of the people behind him ask Tabitha as the woman rejoined him, the ginger-haired one, probably.

"I stepped out to have a talk, not fight a mutant horde," he heard the woman reply pointedly.

Stood there rooted to the ground and confused for a couple more seconds before he managed shake himself off and rejoin the group. Sophia and Steven also joined the group as a conversation began, the former looking slightly apprehensive and the latter looking relieved, of all things.

"Right. Matthew, meet Charlie, Fresno, Swinger and Morgan. Guys, Matthew."

Of the four of them, only Fresno gave him a smile and a polite hello, the others just nodding their heads and looking impatient to get back to business.

"So how the fuck are we going to do this?" Charlie asked Keri.

Keri looked at Tabitha as if she would provide an answer while Tabitha looked at Keri in the same way. The two women looked down at their feet.

Charlie opened his mouth to say something but cut himself off, sighing and running a hand over his face.

"We now know where the mutants are made," Tycho pointed out. "We have a chance to end this. There isn't really anything to do but go in there and... give it our best," he finished weakly.

"Just us and a handful of Brotherhood guys?" Charlie pointed out. "Really? Can't we at least pull some more muscle from the Hub? Or, for that matter, how come is the fucking Brotherhood only sending a couple of their own on this?"

"My dad's planning to end the whole mess in the Hub one of these days," Keri pointed out. "He'll need all the men he can get."

"The military base isn't going anywhere, can't we just wait?"

"The Brotherhood's elders have made their choice," Matthew spoke up. "They know all that you know and have ordered a small group of paladins to scout the base. They're confident they can weather this whole thing in their bunker so they're not going on the offence. Head Paladin Rhombus believes they might tip off their hand on this mission, the Brotherhood aren't exactly good at being sneaky, but he can't argue with the elders. Those paladins are going there whether we like it or not, and most likely things are going to get way worse if they fail to get in and out quietly – which they probably will. This is our one shot."

"And I thought someone bringing this whole mess into the Brotherhood's attention would be good," Tabitha quipped bitingly. "Turns out it really screws us over."

Matthew sighed.

"I've been to the Hub. I know how bad things are. You might not like to hear this, but you all know this is true: this is as good as it's going to get. I know calling things FUBAR is an understatement, but right now, we're probably not going to get a better shot at taking out the mutants."

The others chewed this over silently.

"Fuck me sideways," Charlie swore impotently as he ran his hand through his face again. Matthew just put into words the things that everybody here knew but didn't want to admit, so they all just kept staring at various directions solemnly. Everybody except one.

"None of you actually thought this would be easy, did you?" Steven asked, looking at each and every one of them in turn. "Some of us will probably die, hell, maybe all of us will, and not even every one of us is really that invested in fighting the mutants," his gaze finally settled on Tabitha, "but we have this one shot and we have to take it or leave it."

"Which one of you would be content to just walk away right now?" Tycho asked. "And throw this whole business to the side? Let things play out the way they play out?"

Tabitha chuckled.

"I've got a grudge and I ain't lettin' go!"

Charlie sighed and looked around him.

"Fuck you all," he said quietly, his voice tired and without much fight. A faint smile crossed his lips.

"We should do this," Swinger opined quietly, nodding, and looked at Charlie for approval, the other man smiling back at him and perking up – an act for the benefit of the bulkier man, Matthew realized and made a mental note of it.

"I think Lee here summed it up very accurately for us," Fresno opined, smiling.

"Fine, then," Keri nodded approvingly and crossed her hands on her chest. "Kill one for me," she told Tabitha the same way she'd tell her to go fuck herself. The other woman just rolled her eyes and looked at Matthew.

"You really have a knack for making trouble, don't you?" She looked away. "I guess we're doing this."

A low murmur started among the people and a conversation regarding the immediate logistics, like where to leave the brahmin and Morgan with Keri. Matthew looked at the people gathered here one by one. Sophia caught his stare and smiled, nodding and giving a thumbs up, though she looked somewhat ragged these days. Steven, half of his face bandaged – something he'll have to ask about later – just gave him a stiff nod. The Swinger dude looked spaced out while Fresno just followed the conversation with a warm smile. Morgan was actually sitting in her seat in front of the wagon reading a book like she was alone out here. Tycho looked like the same old Tycho, though maybe a more tired and muted version of himself.

He realized he was gone away for quite a while and things happened, things he'll have to catch up on, and the guilt he felt for having abandoned his friends was like a worm inside his stomach, eating him from within. He thought that nothing that might have happened if he'd rejoined his friends immediately after leaving the vault again could've been as bad as right now, feeling guilt-ridden, disconnected, and uncomfortable in his own skin. He looked at Tabitha who was talking with the same matter-of-fact attitude she always had when talking business. He looked at that Charlie guy observe the conversation with a look of contentment mixed with apathy. He noticed him getting in a few words and how comfortable he was around Matthew's hopefully-not-former friends and how comfortable they were with him.

He'd decided, back in the Hub, that he would try and live his life for others. He always reasoned it was a bit of a cop-out, because his thoughts about his own life were so messy it was easier to just look for a reason to go on somewhere outside rather than inside. But now he understood it wasn't exactly true. Maybe the reason why this modus operandi actually stuck, to the point where he mentally shrugged off that shotgun blast to the chest, was that it actually was an 'inner' reason. Having been alone basically all his life, mostly by choice no less, he'd learnt up here in the surface world just how much he could care about people and just how much his thinking was influenced by the way he thought the others thought of him. Yes, he would have to compensate for his previous fuck-ups somehow, for the choices he'd made while looking for something to actually hold on to in life, but unlike all the previous times, he was now facing hardship on his path and he wasn't about to back out.

He smiled a little, realising that. He tried to be a lot of things, a lot of different people, but he had a feeling this would stick. He felt like he found his way. And he reckoned that the fact he just realized it at one of the hardest moments was proof that this time it was for real.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-05-04 11:22 AM

The following morning they said goodbye to Keri and Morgan, who were allowed to stay in the bunker as 'War-time Advisors' and set off to the north-west through the enormous sand plain, the sun painting it almost bone-white and the dark mountains to the west slowly sinking into the horizon.

The night before Rhombus took Matthew to their storage room and actually gave, or 'issued', as the man put it, him a new weapon and a set of armour. The armour was standard-issue Brotherhood combat armour, the same type of green polymer armour they found in the Glow, but this suit was heavier and had more metallic parts. Matthew found it more constricting than his previous set, but it was reportedly superior, so he decided to keep his old suit on and gave the new one to Sophia, who gave hers to Steven. Rhombus called the weapon he gave Matt 'H&K CAWS'. It was a curious-looking gun that the Head Paladin swore was the best Matt could wish for in close quarters. It was made of black polymers that didn't reflect the light and the finish was red. It fired 12 gauge shotgun shells and had an automatic mode, allowing him to fire five shots per second. The paladin informed him it wasn't the fastest an automatic shotgun could fire: the weapon was bull-up which slowed it down by placing the chamber behind the trigger, but it made it more compact and easier to control. The gun looked like a souped-up, modern version of a sawed-off with a large chamber, but its barrel was actually just a little bit shorter than the other shotguns'. The vault dweller tucked it into his backpack, relying on his sniper rifle in the open of the wasteland.

Three of the four Brotherhood members marched ahead of their column, with Darrel, the appointed leader of the mission, actually trailing behind in the back. Matthew felt his eyes upon him many times, though he could never confirm it due to the helmet. The plain looked dead during daytime, but it came alive at night, scorpions, rats and giant iguanas coming out of their holes as the temperature dropped. They'd set up camp in a seemingly random spot on the monotonous plane and kept watch two at a time, even while nobody was asleep yet, waiting around the fire for dinner to warm up. They were disturbed twice and both times the vault dweller noticed Darrel continuing to sit completely still, unmoving, taking in every detail of how the wastelanders handled the small threats while his troopers sat uneasily doing nothing.

Another paladin who came along was Weathers, the hearty woman full of good humour that Matthew knew from his previous foray with the Brotherhood. She and Bill sat by side by the fire trading stories and jokes, trying to get the wastelanders to join in the fun.

That proved to be a useless endeavour.

Weathers recounted her humorous battle against the super mutant. She laughed open-heartedly and Bill laughed along with her. Chauncey, the other Brotherhood paladin, chuckled shyly and averted his eyes from the others. Darrel and Charlie rolled their eyes and smiled on the opposite sides of the fire. Swinger, Steven and Tabitha remained impassive while Tycho, Elliott and Sophia offered polite smiles. Matt gritted his teeth.

Bill walked ahead of Matt and would turn around to say something as often as he could to keep the silent march from becoming unbearable, but the barren plains had little in the way of conversation pieces. Swinger and Charlie, both marching directly behind the paladins, would have short conversations from time to time, but they were few and Matthew couldn't hear anything anyway.

On the second evening Matthew went for an especially long piss in the wasteland, trying to clear his head and think of a way to somehow ease the tension in the group, for some reason thinking it was up to him, when he noticed Charlie following him into the night.

He stopped and waited for the merc to catch up.

"I get the feeling you hate this as much as I do," the ginger-haired man stated without preamble. Matthew nodded. "Tabitha's had a stick up her ass ever since she found out you actually left the vault – which was in Shady Sands, by the way – Tycho hasn't been the same since he almost died failing to rescue some civilians from super mutants and then brutally murdered one of the Crimson mercs, Sophia's been depressed ever since she saw how powerless she was after Steven almost killed himself – gleefully – when we were attacked by a centaur, and I'm stuck with Swinger whose brother died in said attack and who cannot function on his own. And I'm not very happy about that. So."

A thousand questions swam through the vault dweller's head in the space of a second. He opened his mouth but couldn't really find anything to say. Finally, he chuckled and shook his head slowly.

"You think I can do anything about that?"

Charlie shrugged.

"I don't know. But this group is divided. Groups like that die easily. Someone should do something."

"I'm as problem-ridden as the rest of them. Don't know if I could help."

The merc looked out into the night for a few long moments, then back to the vault dweller.

"You know Tycho and Tabitha well. And you know Steven and Sophia. And you know the Brotherhood guys better than any of us."

"So, I connect people," he frowned, "but I still don't see how that makes me capable of fixing this."

"Maybe it doesn't," Charlie shrugged, "but I reckon you have the best shot."

He considered this.

"Thanks. For letting me know."

The ginger man nodded and looked out into the wasteland.

"It might not look like it, but I usually hate complaining about things," he chuckled. "that's how fucked up it is. Anyway, I thought you need to know."

His head swam with questions as they marched along the next day, seemingly in the same spot they were marching through yesterday now that the mountains to the west were beyond the horizon. He should let Tabitha cool off and talk to her later. Maybe. He was still unsure about what to do with what she said. He needed to talk to Tycho. He needed to talk to Steven and Sophia- no, scratch that, he needed to speak to Sophia about both her and Steven. He needed to crawl into a cave somewhere, curl up and fall asleep hoping the shitstorm just passes over.

He sighed quite loudly and a few minutes later ended up beside Sophia, leading her gently away from the rest of the group, the woman biting her lower lip and looking around worriedly.

"Who talked?" she asked, guardedly.

"Charlie, actually."

"Really?"

They walked slowly until they were behind and to the left of the column.

"Is there anything I can do?" Matt finally asked, his voice sounding small. Sophia shook her head slowly, looking away. "I want to help. And I'm here to help. But you have to give me something to work with."

She sighed, still not looking at him.

"I know," she said. "It's hard."

"I know."

They walked along in silence. He spoke up a while later.

"Charlie says that Steven almost killed himself, quote on quote, 'gleefully'."

She sighed again.

"He pretends he doesn't care," she said, "but I think he does. I don't think anyone can not care as much as he pretends to. I think he cares a lot. And I think he pretends not to all for himself. Like as long as he's in that mindset he can carry on as normal."

"I think he's seen some bad shit."

"Yeah, I think so too."

"He won't talk about it, though."

"He'd probably have a breakdown," she considered it for a moment and then added, "we're kind of the same, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Nobody likes to feel weak. Not in this world," she regarded the wasteland with a distasteful look.

"This thing we're doing, fighting the mutants. Do you need it?"

She considered it.

"Yes. I do."

"Do you think he needs it?"

"Definitely."

"I thought so too."

"Do you need it?"

He considered the question.

"I don't know."

She bit her lower lip and smiled a sad smile to the wasteland.

"Thank you."

He nodded.

"I'm here to help."

"Thank you."

They walked along for a long while, enjoying each other's company in silence.

"My grandparents always said I should think for myself more," she finally said. "My other grandparents said I should try to fit in more. I think they'd all say the same about this if they were here."

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to do something. I want to amount to something. Help someone. Make a difference. But sometimes I think that I'm just foolish and should try and carry on like others do. Look only after myself and stay alive. But I can't. Not for long."

"I get it."

"You do," she sounded doubtful but he really did.

"Yeah. And I don't want anyone to die in that old military base."

She looked at him, the same sad smile still on her face.

"Do you think you can do anything about that?"

"No," he admitted. "Do you think you can actually leave your own permanent mark on the world?"

She looked away and didn't answer for a while.

"We're kind of the same, huh?" she chuckled.

"Vault dwellers," he smiled. "Children."

"How do you carry on?" she asked and looked at him expectantly. He thought about it for a few moments.

"I guess I just try really hard and run really fast and think only about the one thing I'm running towards and hope everything will be alright if I put in enough effort."

"Is that why you got yourself shot in the Glow?"

"I didn't aim to."

"But is it?"

"Yeah."

"Does it work?"

"I'm not sure yet. I think it does. I don't know."

"And Tabitha? You lied about that, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Don't know why."

One of the giant komodos, scales the colour of the sand, was napping in the desert and got woken by the conversation and started towards them. Sophia reached for the plasma pistol at her hip holster but somehow Matthew drew his rifle faster. He ducked, aimed and shot and the bullet hit it in the head. The column stopped and some drew their weapons, and they all approached the scene.

"Fuck yeah, lizard!" Bill was grinning at the kill. "Fuck rations and rat! We're eating lizard tonight!"

Charlie cracked a smile while Bill drew his knife and looked at one of he identical figures in Power Armour.

"Permission to secure some edible food, sir?"

The figure in power armour bristled and chuckled.

"Take ten, everyone!" Darrel commanded but the entire party kept on standing where they stood, only in a slightly more relaxed manner.

Charlie and Bill moved to the dead komodo with their knives.

"Have you ever even gutted one?" Charlie smirked.

"No. Have you?"

Charlie's smirk fell and he rolled his eyes.

"No. You can't really find them anywhere but in this god-forsaken stretch of the wastes, and far out north or east, I hear."

"Oregon's swarming with them," Tabitha opined, unintentionally cutting in quite abruptly and making heads turn at the recently unusually quiet woman.

"Will you teach us, oh great trapper?" Charlie asked, mocking a bow.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah."

And she did, hovering above both of their shoulders and explaining without pause how to cut this, remove that, and what parts were good for eating in what ways. Matt didn't even register a small smile slowly spreading on his face as he watched the scene. At some point she looked up and glanced at him for just a second, then looked back down and paused for a few seconds, deep in thought, before continuing. His smile fell.

* * *

><p>The Wasteland<p>

2161-05-06 08:22 PM

"We're wasting our time with this," Darrel opined. Tycho disregarded the man and kept looking at the distant figure through his binoculars. The figure was a woman in ratty brahmin-leather clothes, squatting in the sand and relieving herself next to the small derelict gas station in the distance.

"At least one person," Tycho reported mechanically. "Woman. Ratty clothes. No guns on her that I can see."

He put the binoculars down and looked at the gathered mercenaries and Brotherhood soldiers. They were all waiting impatiently, occasionally glancing towards the setting sun that painted the desert orange with more and more red mixed in with every passing minute, all thinking the same: nights in this part of the wasteland suck and can we please get on with securing a roof over our heads for the night. The ranger sympathised.

"If there are people inside, we can just throw them out," Darrel, the leader of the Brotherhood segment of their little outfit, stated.

"And hope they don't decide to return the favour when the night falls," Tabitha opined, the ranger knowing all too well exactly what she was suggesting.

"Maybe a lighter touch?" Elliott offered calmly. "Let's just see what sort of people they are and then we decide."

Tabitha looked him up and down with a frown.

The ranger cleared his throat.

"Let's approach them and see. There's gonna be time for killing them in cold blood after that, if the situation warrants it," he said a lot more coldly and with a lot more detachment than he ever had. Tabitha bore her eyes into his for a moment and then shrugged.

"Fine," she said, "the two of you can go on in."

"I truly hope we can solve this without bloodshed," Elliott said to Tycho when they were halfway to the gas station. The ranger looked ahead. The woman was done answering the call of nature and was already inside. He looked behind him. Those not in power armour were on the move, approaching the building from the sides in order to jump in and help them if things went south. He looked ahead again, to the gas station.

"Reckon they can see us comin'?"

Elliot glanced at him and smiled, then shrugged, and the ranger's question was answered ten meters from the door, when a very tall and wiry man poked his head outside. He wore a pair of ancient pre-war jeans, almost as many holes as fabric on them, and a grey sweater. A battered-looking hunting rifle was slung across his back. The man's face was dirty and otherwise nondescript, his long brown hair in a pony -tail.

"Hey there!" the man hailed and waved his hand in greeting, smiling warmly and shuffling on his feet. The two men stopped.

"Hey, friend," Elliott smiled back, "I'm Elliott and this is Tycho. We're looking for a place to stay for the night."

"Well head on in," the man's smile broadened. "Plenty of space for all of us."

The little gas station was like any other you could expect to find in the wasteland: the walls and ceilings cracked, all manner of rubbish strewn on the floor, and everything covered with a thick layer of dust which was all you could smell inside. The large front window was gone and the folks had a fire going near it, hidden from any curious critters outside behind one of the shelves.

"Settle down, settle down!" the man urged. "We were just about to get us some dinner!"

The two men nodded their thanks and sat down by the fire. There were only two other people here. The first was the Hispanic woman on his left, the one Tycho saw outside. Up close he noticed the wicked-looking cleaver strapped to her thigh. The other was an older-looking man in the same brahmin-skin getup, a small revolver holstered on his thigh.

"Name's Ethan," the tall smiling man introduced himself as he sat down between his comrades. "This is Sandy and Al. Would you like some dinner?"

Tycho looked at the meagre meal the folks were cooking, a few slices of meat on a spit over the fire, and shook his head and opened his bag and produced a some bread and cheese, noticing Elliott do the same.

"We have our own food, thank you," the man replied warmly. "We don't want to impose any more than we already have."

"Nonsense!" the man waved the idea away. "We're glad to have you! I swear I get sick and tired of having no one to talk to but these two."

The older man turned the spit on the fire, his brown eyes not losing sight of the meat for a second while the girl just watched the fire, shivering, as if it was all that mattered and the entire world could go fuck itself in the meantime.

"Where're you headed?" Tycho asked in what he hoped was a neutral tone.

"Southeast, to Junktown," the man replied. "Haven't been home for a long time, you see," he smiled.

"Junktown? You're awfully far from home."

The man shrugged, his smile not wavering.

"What can I say, I like to wander the wastes. We all do."

Tycho nodded.

"Where are you to travellin'?"

"West," the ranger replied. "Seeking fortune. Heard there was some pre-war base or something thataways. Figured we'd take a look."

The tall man, Ethan, rubbed his chin and the scratched his head with his shaky fingers, thinking.

"Never heard of it," he said, "which means odds are no other fortune seekers got there before you."

"You could come with us if you'd like," Elliott offered.

"Nah," Ethan waved him off, "not our style. We usually hunt and find work in the cities. We just came from Sunnytown. Ever been to Sunnytown?"

The two men shook their heads. Al turned the meat again.

"Good place," Ethan continued. "The people don't have much but they make do. Don't know how, but they just do. Know things about the wasteland I never even dreamed of. You can set one loose in these here sandy plains, and they'll somehow find food and water to survive for months. The folks know the wastes. I swear to god, I've never seen a bunch of healthier-looking people. Despite living in dirt and old old piles of brick, you know?"

"Sounds like one could learn a lot from them," Elliott opined.

"Aye, we tried," Ethan chuckled. "I had a gal tell me about gettin' water from a cactus. Didn't understand a word. Sounded like some magic mumbo-jumbo."

Al removed the spit from the fire and took the meat slices off with an old fork and divided them between three plates. Sandy seemed to have woken from her slumber and produced a half-loaf of cornbread from a bag and divided it between her companions.

"You're all three from Junktown?" Tycho asked.

"Sandy and I are. Al here's from Boneyard but he got fed up with them and left."

"Why?"

The man took his plate of meat and cornbread, his gaze never leaving his food, and answered in a low, gravelly voice.

"Trouble with the sheriff's daughter."

"Long story," Ethan waved it off again. "Say, wouldya like some o'this? Al might be a tactless grouch, but he could even make roaches taste amazing!"

"I don't want to impose..." Elliott started, but was cut off by the man.

"Nonesense! We've got a lot more o'that where it came from! We're just savin', you see. Al's cookin' sells well at any place! Go ahead, it's just a bite! I dare you to say it's not the best you ever eaten!"

Elliott flustered for a few seconds but took the offered piece of meat. He chewed it three times and then stopped, frowning. Then his eyes bulged and he continued chewing with three times the vigour.

"This is amazing," the man nodded in agreement.

"Would you believe it's molerat?"

"Molerat?" Elliot looked at Al, then Ethan, and then Al again. "No, I would not. You, sir, are one hell of a cook!"

All just nodded in response, continuing to eat mechanically.

"Did you encounter any mutants on the way here?" Elliott asked, smiling, all warmed up to the strangers. "Heard rumours that there's quite a lot out there."

"Ah, we did, once!" Ethan replied with the same enthusiasm as before despite the subject. "Sandy here has eagle eyes, she does, she spotted them on the horizon and we hit the ground right away!"

"The big ones? The super mutants?"

"Don't know what they're called, my friend, but she tells me that they were _big_, weren't they?"

Sandy continued eating, oblivious to the conversation.

"Weren't they?"the smiling man repeated. "Sandy!"

The woman jumped up and looked around, her meal almost falling out of her plate.

"Huh?"

"I said we saw some pretty big mutants and we ducked right quick, didn't we?"

"Yeah. Very big," the woman replied, frowning, as if the man just did something insulting.

"Grouchy, isn't she?" Ethan smiled. "That's why I like the company of others."

"I see," Elliot replied and finished his own food, wiping his hands on the thighs of his armour. "Grouchy indeed. 'Scuse me for a moment. Gotta take a leak."

He stood up and walked out of the room.

"What about you?" the smiling man asked. "Aren't you afraid of the mutants?"

"Elliott there has a good set of eyes as well," he replied neutrally. "We've dodged them once. Kind of hopin' that place we're looking for isn't crawling with them. Did you see any back north?"

Ethan tilted his head sideways, thinking.

"Nope. Afraid we didn't see hide nor hair of those creatures there. What would they be doin' up there anyways? Nothing worthwhile up there."

"What about Sunnytown?"

"They'd see trouble comin' fifty miles away and be gone before they're forty-nine away," he chuckled. "They're that good."

The ranger nodded.

"Good. Good that someone knows how to survive in this world by using what they've got and what the dessert can give. Many people nowadays turn to raiding and stealing."

"Times are hard," he shrugged. "People make do with what skills they have."

"And if it's hurting others then it doesn't matter?"

Ethan chuckled.

"My friend, I don't reckon this land can feed the amount of people that're still around. When a man hasn't eaten in days, he doesn't ask what's good and what's bad, they just do what they know they can do and try and survive."

"Survival of the fittest."

"Or the most skilled. Sunnytown, that place is gonna be around forever because those people have mad skills at surviving in the wastes. Others aren't so lucky to know the stuff they do."

"It's sad I never even heard of it while the most well-known city in the..."

An automatic rifle shot behind them cut the ranger off. A bullet embedded itself in the wall behind Ethan, missing his head by centimetres. Tycho ducked his head instinctively, drawing his side-arm and pointing it at the door and saw Elliot standing there, his AK-112 shouldered, eye down the sights.

"Up, the three of you," the man demanded through gritted teeth. Tycho never heard him speak so venomously before. He stood up too and took a couple of steps towards the young merc.

"Elliott."

"They're cannibals," he said through gritted teeth. "The meat they're eating – human, I know what it tastes like. And I know those shakes you got there."

Tycho looked back at the trio, standing with their arms up. Al didn't seem to care about the situation while Sandy was frowning, her stance betraying that she was ready to dart off at any moment. Ethan had his arms up as well and that incessant smile on his face was replaced by a mask of impassiveness and bitterness.

"We're not going to eat you," he said, making it sound like they were being ridiculous. "I told you, we've got enough food as it is. There's no need for this."

Despite his previously sunny disposition and his shaking hands the man looked the very embodiment of calm.

"I wasn't worried you were going to eat us because you wouldn't be able to kill us first," Elliott spat back, the other man shrugging as if he had a point. "It's just that I can't come across a bunch of filthy cannibals and let them live."

Ethan sighed.

"Ah, so you're one of the righteous types? Good for you."

"What you're doing is wrong," Tycho pointed out, knowing full well how lame it sounded before he was finished saying it. His gun, trained on the woman, slacked in his hand and he had to make himself snap out of it to raise it up to her again.

"Don't preach your righteous fucking sermon to us," Ethan rebutted coldly. "I bet you never had to starve, have you? You're a spoiled old man, right? A stuck up asshole who never had to work hard and had everything handed to him. Only people like you, with too much time on their hands and not enough worries, get retarded enough to use such a line."

"It's not about righteousness," Elliot countered. "We will kill you here and the people you would've killed if we hadn't will get to live. Maybe one or more of them will even contribute to society and make life just a little bit better for everyone else. You sure as hell won't so I'm willing to take that chance."

Tycho frowned. That made sense. He straightened up and fixed his posture, the weapon now trained on the cannibal woman with skill and obvious intent to kill.

"Any last words?" Elliott asked.

"Go fuck yourself."

Elliott opened fire, the 5.56 rounds embedding themselves in a crooked line across Ethan's stomach, the gas station wall, and Al's chest. Sandy ducked at the sound and tried to dash for cover. The ranger shot her a split second later, in the ribs standing sideways. She cried out and fell on the floor and without missing a beat the ranger took one step in her direction and shot her in the temple.

All his life, when he'd kill people like these before, he'd feel a rush of righteousness and optimism. This time he felt no such thing. He felt nothing apart from slight relief that comes after a firefight you survive, and a little bit of hope. He imagined the people they might have eaten but now won't get the chance to. There's hope in that.

"All clear!" Elliott yelled behind him. The ranger looked at the man, seething but doing his best to keep it in.

A second later a man in power armour walked in, and the rest of the group followed.

"Let's just clear the bodies and get settled," Darrel ordered somewhat grouchily, shouldering past the ranger, taking a cannibal under each of his arms and leaving.

"Why didn't you guys come in when you heard the first shot?" Tycho asked.

"He asked us not to," Tabitha replied, pointing her chin at Elliott, who was picking up his backpack from the floor. The man ignored the exchange and dropped his back in the corner of the station and started unrolling his sleeping bag. The ranger sighed. He rolled out his own sleeping bag next to the hallway to the bathrooms in the back and when he got back to the fire everyone was either sitting around it or finishing up with their own sleeping arrangements. Elliott passed a bottle of scotch to the power armoured figure to his right as the ranger sat down and the armoured figure took off their helmet, revealing themselves to be Weathers, who took a gulp of the scotch, winced, and passed it on.

"I gotta say, this booze really grows on you quick," she said, grinning.

"What do you drink in the bunker?" Matthew asked. "Spirit? Synthesized alcohol?"

"Water," she replied and rolled her eyes. "I had half a bottle of bourbon once, though. Found it on patrol. Drank the whole thing in minutes and kept swearing I'd never, ever drink again over and over for the next couple of hours and days."

"I didn't hear that," another person in power armour remarked in Darrel's voice.

The rest of the evening went by pretty much like all the others had, with conversation starting up and dying out quickly enough, only to be laborious started up again by the joined efforts and Matt and Bill, both of them looking that much more tired from it. The ranger thought it was nice to see the effort. As the first couple of people made their way to their sleeping bags Elliott stood up and went outside and Tycho followed a minute later. The younger man was leaning against the wall, smoking. The ranger took a cigarette from his own pack an approached him.

"Got a light?"

He got his cigarette lit and exhaled the smoke slowly, leaning on the wall beside the younger man.

"I liked what you said to those cannibals," he said. "About saving lives they would take." The man shrugged.

"It's the truth."

"I never looked at it like that. My dad always used to say cannibals were bad because they're bad."

"They _are_ bad."

Tycho took another drag and exhaled. Having thought through the events of the evening he thought he finally understood what made the man do what he did.

"How do you know what human tastes like?" he asked.

Elliott flicked the ashes off the tip of his cigarette again and again and again.

"Was taken in by these strangers in the wasteland when my folks died," he replied. "I was little and the meat they cooked was sweet. I liked it until I learnt what it was. Thought of running away but I would've died. Tried not eating out of principle but couldn't hold out long," he took a long drag of his cigarette and continued, "never really hated them for it. I ate it too even though it was wrong because I was hungry, real hungry. It was years before I could move on on my own and I did. Never saw them again. Don't even hate them," he smiled.

"I think what I said was true but I didn't do it because of _that_," he continued. "I didn't think about all the people they'd kill when I decided to kill them. I just thought it was wrong and they deserved to die. And it was wrong because of all the people they'd kill."

The ranger frowned for a second, mulling the nonsensical sentences over, and then smiled when realization hit him.

"My dad never used to tell me why this or that was wrong," the ranger said. "He just said it was and I never questioned it."

"Wrong's what you determine to be wrong," Elliott nodded. "You think things over and then you pass judgement and label them. And when you have to make the decision you just use those terms like bookmarks. Quickly. Instinctively. Many folks know right from wrong as their parents taught them, but they don't understand. At least they don't hurt anyone that way, usually, so I don't complain."

The ranger shifted uncomfortably and took a drag of the cigarette and tossed the rest of it into the gathering darkness.

"Gonna head on back," he said, his words materialising as pale white smoke from his mouth. "Gotta get some rest. We're close now."

Elliott nodded and flicked his cigarette away and the two men returned to the gas station.

* * *

><p>Mariposa Military Base<p>

2161-05-06 10:41 PM

The super mutant Lieutenant frowned as he walked through the hallways of Mariposa yet again, the dirtiness and disarray of the place having seemingly increased since the last time he was here. There was another mutant mutant up ahead, giving instructions to a human in purple robes. The human left and the mutant looked up and straightened up and saluted.

"Lieutenant! Good to have you back."

"You too, Artemis," the mutant saluted back and put his hand on the mutant's shoulder, the other responding in kind. Artemis was larger than the other mutants, much stronger and smarter, and his armour, shining metal plates on his shoulders and chest, as well as his position as one of the Lieutenant's bodyguards and assistants, reflected that.

"I was just instructing the Children to get some of the programming errors in the maintenance Handys sorted out," he reported as they both continued down the hallway. "It seems that without your presence the other meta-humans grew restless, and this place became that much filthier."

"I hope you didn't have too much trouble without me."

"No, they're all good people here, but they love you and they don't like you being away. I heard the Necropolis mission was a success?"

The larger mutant chuckled.

"There was never a chance for success for this is not one of those endeavours. It was just a pointless little undertaking to appease that human wretch. Necropolis is useless to us. Then again, it seems it was more of a failure than it should've been."

"How so?"

"A human found their way in and out of the city. The other humans will know of this soon."

"Why does it matter? They didn't like us before and they won't like us now. And it's not like they will be able to mount a resistance we couldn't crush, even if they know we're on the move. It's just that depending on what they saw the Children might have a harder time but..." the mutant left the sentence dangling.

"No matter how confident we are of our power, being cautious never hurts. Our people bleed and die if enough force is applied and more of them might indeed bleed and die because of this."

The two mutants entered an elevator.

"Speaking of the Mr. Handy robots," the lieutenant continued, "I'll need you to make sure one of them has the Rhonda Hightower program downloaded and functional, and I'll want the robot presented to Tabitha. She'll be in one of the cells."

"A Mr. Handy? Didn't she have an eyebot?"

"Shot down in Necropolis. She took it quite hard, predictably."

The two mutants exited the elevator into the lower levels of the base, where the more important facilities were located and the more important people worked. It was decidedly cleaner.

"Sir, if I may..."

The larger mutant nodded.

"Why are we pampering Tabitha so much? She's stronger than most of her kin, but she's also more unstable. Is the investment worth it?"

They stopped in front of the Lieutenant's office.

"I remember when you emerged from the vats, Artemis. You were one of the first. You would kick and scream and smash things because the base was so untidy. And any humans you captured would be stripped of their clothes and their wasteland shelters kicked apart because the very sight of ragged cloth and dirty dwellings drove you beyond mad."

If the mutant felt uncomfortable he didn't show it.

"But I knew then that in time you would turn out to be someone special. And I was right! A few months later I took you in as my assistant and since then you've been single-handedly making sure everything runs smoothly in this base. You cleaned it up and kept it clean. You created homes and facilities for our kin. Most of our kind have a rocky beginning, but when you've seen as much as I've seen you learn to see meta-humans for what they _can_ be. And despite her... difficulties... I believe Tabitha will be capable of great things in the future. When we take over this wasteland, she might even be placed as governor of a settlement or a few. She has the knack for it, and the drive. All we need to do is help her through these turbulent times."

The mutant sighed and nodded.

"I trust your wisdom, Lieutenant."

The mutant's lip's stretched a little in a mutant version of a smile and he patted his friend on the shoulder and opened the door to his office.

"You're perceptive. You see what I see though you don't know it yet. Trust me on this. Now, I'll be in my office, making preparations."

The mutant moved inside and sat down on a collection of cider blocks by a dining table for six that substituted as his working desk.

"Preparations, sir?"

"Yes. It might have been against our will, but we made a move. We set the ball rolling and we're not going to try and catch it. We will use the momentum and strike out, from Necropolis to the Hub, to Junktown and Shady Sands, to the Boneyard and then any place we wish," the mutant bared his teeth. "It has already started. Humanity will fall as Unity rises!"


End file.
